


The Maverick Prince

by Ysavvryl



Series: MMX Alternate Timeline [5]
Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X
Genre: Anxiety, Being an Artist, Fear of Power, Gen, Humans and Reploids working together, Maverick Virus, Slice of Life, Temptation of Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 116,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysavvryl/pseuds/Ysavvryl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of an extraordinary reploid trying to live an ordinary life, searching his soul for answers no one will give, and doing his best to help the lives of others.  The story of Black Zero from MMX2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The city burned, the air orange with smog reflecting the blazes. There were bodies in the street, all dead. No, one was moving. One was trying to run away. He was to eliminate all of them, wipe the face of the Earth clean to end the corruption. He fired at the fleeing figure, killing the human. They would all be gone and he wouldn’t have to deal with their annoyance any more.

Annoyance… he stood there for a moment, his long hair being blown in the wind. Were the humans really annoying? He didn’t mind them much. Yet another thought believed them unworthy of the Earth, something to fight against. An older part of his mind. And sometimes, letting that part of his mind go unrestrained was like true freedom. But what part of himself was true?

“Stop right there!” a voice called out, a fierce and strong authority. He turned. “It’s you again,” the authority said.

It was him again. The blue armored hero, X. His eyes were harsh, angered at the destruction, angered at the deaths. For some reason, he was on their side. And against him, even if they were the same, not humans. And he felt… a snarl coming to his face, a hatred that was instinctive… fear, a fear of pain worse than death, agony that never really ended. His mind was breaking in two, but he faced the hero.

And charged for the growing blue shine. It formed a blast more powerful than it should be, and…

And he screamed, “Stop!” He collided into something hard, while something else tried to restrain him. He was trapped? But X was there and... he was going to suffer all over again.

But the pain he felt was barely there, nothing like it should have been facing against X’s charged buster. And it was quiet. No fires, just a gentle hiss all around him. Still tensed, he opened his eyes. There was a clear curved cover above him, and a gray concrete ceiling past that. Some mechanisms were moving around him, retreating, although not letting him go while he was like this. Just a dream. Again. Why couldn’t he have nice dreams more often? He tried to relax to the point where the sleeping pod would feel it safe to let him go, but he was shaking, just about crying.

After about ten minutes, he had finally calmed down enough that he was let go. Sometimes he thought of removing the restraint orders again. Then again, he immediately recalled times when he had managed to break through the cover of a sleeping pod and crash into a wall after such a frightening dream. It was better this way.

He got out of the pod, feeling weak in the knees. Still, he made himself go over to the kitchenette area and get some coffee started. He was grateful to the one who had been kind enough to upgrade him so that he could drink and eat things. He found it a comforting thing to do. Especially when he made the food or drink himself. It was an indulgence that no one could deny him.

While he was waiting on the water to boil, then the coffee to brew, he considered what to do today. He was inclined to stay within his apartment. His apartment was safe. He could work on his sculptures, or the paintings. He turned on a radio, to keep the silence from being overbearing. But as soon as he did, he heard it. X’s voice.

“The situation is under control,” he said, in what would normally be a reassuring tone. “They had larger plans, but we managed to catch them in time…”

After a second being frozen by that voice, he slammed his hand down on top of the radio. Unfortunately, it had been an old model, barely working as it was. It got smashed under his impact. It emitted a screech in retaliation, then went silent.

He stared at it for a full minute, until his kettle started whistling. He shut the burner off and went to pour it into the filter with the grounds. The familiar greeting of a good morning came to his senses when the hot water hit the grounds. But that only stalled the inevitable memories that came forward.

...

A passageway of harsh lights and deep shadows. He walked just behind a reploid that was a full head taller than him. As he led the way, his violet cape shifted, he spoke of their guiding light, the one who had made it all possible. But he was only a copy of that light.

Possibly the only battle he had ever enjoyed. At least while it was going on. Their enemy was skilled, so was he, but he ended up defeated: motionless, powerless, helpless…worthless…

A strange image that caught his attention. It was soft, peaceful, and beautiful, unlike everything else so far. What was it? Why did it speak to him? Could he hold onto that strange beauty? But it had been destroyed to violence as well.

An image on the screen that spoke of doom to them all, the end of life on Earth. Someone wanted to erase all organic life, not caring or seeing the beauty of it. And that someone was the one who had made him. Was that legacy going to pass to him?

...

A splatter of hot water on his skin brought him back to the present. He put the kettle down and started cleaning up the mess he had made while lost in thought. Then he leaned down and took a sip out of his coffee, to make sure it wouldn’t spill when he picked it up. He didn’t always have it black, but this morning seemed like a black one.

He bit his lip, still looking down. A guiding light, like the star Polaris, as his creator had said. He had eventually taken that for his name, Polaris, even if he wasn’t worthy of it. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worth anything at all, even this coffee. But darn it, the coffee never judged him. He picked up the mug up and took it back to an arm chair, where he curled up and tried to figure out what to do today.

Sometime, at some point, he had been meant to kill X. But that was flushed out of his system now. There was no way he’d dare do that. Instead, he had a fear of X that was so strong that there were days when it crippled him almost as bad as that shot from Zero had. Some black mornings like this, he did nothing but hide, safe from his fears, safe from discovery. He was almost certain that if they discovered that the copy of Zero from the second Sigma war had survived, they would be back to finish the job. Even if his fear of X insured that he wasn’t going to do anything worth getting killed over.

But no. He’d done that for years now and he wanted to change that. He wanted to stop hiding. Sometimes he could almost work up the nerve to do it. He had actually been considering moving, leaving the underground complex that he had stayed in all his life. He was going to be that daring. But then, he had one of those nightmares that made him want to curl up in the shell of this apartment and never ever come out.

And that’s when the telephone rang.

Polaris stiffened, then got out of his chair and went over to the phone. That stirred up another fear. They usually didn’t call him unless something was wrong. But that was part of the deal, wasn’t it? They said nothing about his very existence and he took care of certain problems that they could not. It was time to pay his rent. Setting his coffee mug down, he picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Polaris.”

“Good morning,” it wasn’t. “Polaris, we need you to clear out the tunnels again. The Nightmares have returned.”

Them. He hated dealing with them. “Okay, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there,” he said.

“Thanks, we’ll be waiting.”

He hung up the phone and sighed. But if he did nothing, they might even infiltrate his apartment. And that would be terrible. He drank the last of his coffee, then set the mug on the counter. Then over to his closet, where he hid his armor pod. Reluctant but making himself do his job, Polaris took off his clothes, then stepped into the pod and let the armor form around him.

It was old, to be honest about it. He hadn’t changed it much since he had been built. Through many more wars (that he had hidden through), technology had advanced by large degrees. This wouldn’t last long against modern opponents. However, it served well enough in the tunnels and against the Nightmares. Just so long as he was careful not to take any serious injuries while fighting those free forms.

Once he had his black armor on, he checked the weapons it had, making sure the viral neutralizer was still on his buster. Then he left his apartment for the main office.

* * *

 

_What follows is an extensive and possibly excessive author's note.  If you're curious about the writing process and the history of this particular fanfiction, then read on.  If you just want to get on with the story, skip ahead to the first actual chapter._

All of my fanfics are done because I love the stories and I love the sources. But this particular fic is quite special to me. Perhaps because of how long I've worked on it, or perhaps it has a unique flavor for this particular fandom. If you've read this before, you know what I mean. If this story is new to you, then I hope you enjoy it just as much as I do.

It all started in another fic. Maverick X Files, actually, a weird crack-ish fic that flipped good and evil roles for a lot of characters (I say crack-ish because I'm getting convinced that I can't write true crack, only crack ideas that turn dramatic). It had a parallel history going on, including a parallel Black Zero named Nocturne. He was intentionally made to be annoying and did well in that aspect. He was emo, spoke in purple prose, was overdramatic, had no courage, and spent a lot of time whining and moping, when he wasn't stalking another character.

And yet, there was something about him. Maybe it was the fact that he aspired to be a poet. Maybe it was because I gave him a chance at doing one awesome thing (not yet posted here) only to steal the show with something even more awesome. Whatever it was, I felt a little bad for how Nocturne turned out. I left him that way, but I also extracted his character to start another fanfic project.

I revamped his character so that he was far less annoying and more relatable. I cut out his purple prose and whiny tendencies. I also changed his love of poetry over to art, in part to further pull him away from Nocturne. Lastly, I changed his name to Polaris and started to search for a plot.

At the time, I was pretty active over at the Bob and George forums. I posted my fic, and read others. One thing I noticed was that many stories were action and war oriented, with not much thought given to character development or times of peace. That gave me the idea to try out writing what the life of an ordinary reploid would be like. But the free character I had was not ordinary, being a copy of Zero.

So I had the theme an extraordinary reploid trying to live an ordinary life. That put him against Sigma, which gave me the start of a plot. Happy with that, I started filling out the idea, adding in a clone of X in for parallels. I named the project Copycats and started writing. And Copycats was fun to write; I had all kinds of scenarios to put the two clones through.

Then I got to introducing the climax where I would make them face off against Sigma and I realized something. I hated the X clone. Normally, I rather like X's character (and it shows in other works). But this clone was trying too hard to be badass. He had passed over into Gary-Stu territory in that I was having trouble coming up with a suitable challenge for him. He just fixed things all too quick. I decided that he had to go. On the other hand, Polaris had grown suitably deep enough that he felt like a real person to me. He would stay.

This led to major plotholes. Polaris led in the most interesting scenes. However, the X clone was the one instigating a lot of the incidents and plot. Polaris isn't as spineless as his predecessor Nocturne, but he does tend to drag his heels when it comes to change. He needed other characters to nudge him into moving.

Thus came the first major reconstruction of the story. I started up a new file, named it Maverick Prince, and began rewriting. This time, things went smoothly. Other characters cropped up that could move things along without overpowering the story. I even managed to integrate the X clone into the story (although the fact that he shows up as a mutilated corpse should tell you how strongly I felt about him). When I got far enough along, I began posting it in little bits on the Bob and George forums. And people liked it, leading to a loyal following. I finished off the story, happy with how it turned out.

And then the webcomic Bob and George reached its conclusion. The forum stayed fairly active for a while, so I stayed. But the forums got set to downgrade due to the slowing traffic and something occurred to render certain posts into gibberish. The worst part of it? It was longer posts, like those in the Fanfiction forum, which got turned to gobbledygook.

I lost 4 novel-length fanfics in that incident, including Maverick Prince.

As you can imagine, that was upsetting. I left the forums not long after and started to write for other fandoms. People eventually found me again (it's the name) and I got the request to repost Maverick X Files somewhere else. When I started fanfiction, I hadn't backed them up, figuring they were 'just fanfics'. But I did have an early form of Maverick X Files on hand (long story, involves a series of old cranky computers). I adjusted that and posted that on another site. But I didn't have copies of the other three and I didn't know how to fix the gobbledygook. So I kept working on other things.

But Polaris never quite left my mind, even if his story was electronically shredded. I started using him in text RPGs. I kept coming up with ideas for him, especially his background during the timeline of the X games. And I wrote those down, even though I wasn't sure if I'd get to use them. I even pulled his personality and transported him over to a whole different fandom, making him into a human in the Pokémon world. That fic, Six Spirit, turned out quite well. Still, it wasn't Maverick Prince and I missed that story the most.

Then another old fan found me and said he had managed to recover the longest fic, Child's Play. It only needed a few fixes, so I did those and posted it as it was. Encouraged to have two of those old fics back, I looked into the other two.

Maverick Prince was in sad shape. I guess about 70% to 80% was lost. Weirdly enough, a few very important scenes were left completely intact on the B&G forums. Also, I still had a copy of the original version, Copycats (it took searching three computers and two boxes of diskettes). And there was enough structure left to the forum copy, plus great posts from reviewers and fans, that were just enough to reconstruct the story. So I started that.

But in the time between the second version and this third version, some ideas I have about the MegaMan universe changed. I still read many other fics of the fandom, including some quite brilliant ones here. Those have made me rethink how things work, and thus how this fic works. Plus, there were those background ficlets I'd collected, and some scenes I didn't like as much when I saw them again, and I thought some things should be changed around.

However, creativity is a hard beast to control.  I got distracted in other projects and eventually this story went on hiatus.  Still, people keep asking to know when this will be done again.  I'll be posting one chapter a week here on AO3 in part to make myself focus on finishing it.  Let's hope it doesn't go on hiatus again!

If you've read Maverick Prince before, then some parts of the fic may be very familiar. But a lot has changed too. I adjusted who knows what about who, key relationships, key scenes, the order of events, even a number of supporting characters and some symbolism. There are a lot more flashbacks, which are scattered throughout instead of being clustered to one area. Some of the mechanics of things have changed, some knowingly and some unknowingly (one of the most detailed info-dumps was totally lost). Having more experience and feedback on my action scenes, it's even a little more action-y than the published second version. It still keeps that same uniqueness, though, the relatively calm and easy-going slice-of-life fic in a fandom of action-oriented fics.

I am very happy to be able to present, once again, The Maverick Prince.

By the way, if you're wondering about that fourth fic, Final Request, it would be even harder to salvage on my end. One issue that it has is that I borrowed a bunch of characters from other Bob and George fanfic writers and any effort to recover it would have to be able to recover the credits to other authors. It's unlikely for me to be able to get it back.


	2. Lurking Nightmare

March 2194

Intruder found, C-4 tunnel, unknown life form, not registered. _Ignore intruder_. Intruder found, C-4 tunnel, unknown life form, not registered. _Ignore intruder_. Intruder found...   
  
The ARC Security System was running in a loop, unable to recognize that it was. It was unable to recognize that the intruders had compromised the sensor array in the C-tunnels. It could recognize that there was a problem, so it took in more energy to deal with the problem. Due to the intruders’ efforts, all that energy went into running in the loop.   
  
Intruder found... secondary intruders found, C-4 tunnel, reploids, scanning for RIN...   
  
RIN: SS-001  
Name: Polaris Starr  
Age: 38 years  
ARC status: resident, A-206  
Access to C-tunnels granted.  
  
RIN: EMA-625-480-V  
Name: Vilpent Electronica  
Age: 4 years  
ARC status: resident, B-342  
Access to C-tunnels granted.  
  
Two residents of the Asian Recycling Center, they had the necessary permission to be in the area. This was an unusual time for residents to be in the C-tunnels. And there was the problem the system was unable to find. Running through preset options, the system chose to monitor the two, but not inhibit their access.   
  
Polaris was a humanoid reploid. According to the ARC database, he had orange hair, brown eyes, and a Caucasian body style. According to the C-4 tunnel cameras, he wore matte black and silver body armor with a helmet that covered most of his face. Quite prudent for the ARC area, as venturing beyond the A and B tunnels was guaranteed to be messy, tricky, and potentially dangerous. His right arm had an installed buster gun and he could switch to a plasma blade in his left, or wield both. Also prudent. However, the fact that his hair went down to his waist was a problem; he had solved that by putting it into a tight braid.   
  
On the other hand, Vilpent was in a less practical condition. He was a twenty foot snake, with a mottled yellow and brown body. He did have headgear that seemed to a highly modified gun: the barrel strapped to his head with the plasma case and a power unit hooked on further down his back. Accompanying him was a monkey robot which seemed to be acting as his hands. But since the robot wasn’t infected, it was of no concern to the security system.   
  
The security system observed as they made their way through the crowded tunnel. There was a massive backlog of metal scrap, which the C-4 tunnel dealt with. Normally, the ARC system would be running the C machinery today, turning the metal scraps into smaller scraps, which could then be sorted, broken down, melted down, reformed, and resold to industries as element blocks. But due to the problem it could not identify, it was running no machines. An overseer like Metal Shark Player could order the machines to run anyways, but Metal Shark Player had not been registered as active for some time now.

“Why do they keep coming back?”

“We don’t know.” Polaris was the speaker. They stopped in front of a grinding machine. Large metal teeth were made to crush and crumble. “Okay….”

“The masschinessss are not running,” the serpent stated, putting a hiss on his ‘s’-like noises.

“I know, I know. But you see them and can imagine how they do work. At least I do.” He sighed, then seemed to collect himself enough to move past the grinder. “And there it is.”

Now that they were there, the security system could activate its cameras on the area. There was a creature floating in the tunnel. Colored pink with purple spots, it resembled a cross between the translucent jellyfish and a human brain. Virus, the security system finally recognized. Nightmare virus. It turned on its voice program. “Dangerous virus detecting in C-4 tunnels. Locking down electronic pathways, conducting total system analysis to detect other viral entities.” Now that it could skip the loop, the computer used its backlog of energy to secure the safety of the ARC network.

“Ssssecurity took its time noticcccing,” Vilpent noted.

“They keep the computers from fully recognizing them,” Polaris said. “I think there’s an infected core or something around that continually produces these Nightmares. They show up once a month, almost on a regular basis. But not always in the same amounts.”

“I sssee.”

The computer noticed the Nightmare virus attempting to wrestle control of the grinding machine away. It blocked off the virus’ access, taking the precaution to block off other weapons under its control. But the Nightmare also had access to weapons lying about. It drifted over to a broken gun and activated it.

Polaris fired at it with his buster. “Just attack the virus; ignore anything it brings up.”

“It won’t attack directly, then,” the snake mused, then fired his head rifle at it.

“It can’t. It won’t be able to infect us unless we’re injured. Which is why I’m not afraid of it unless it does manage to attack indirectly.” He dodged some wild fire from the broken gun, then activated his plasma blade and sliced through the Nightmare. It wailed, then turned into a large blue orb of programming energy. “Remember my warning.” He shifted his buster gun’s setting.

“Right, acsscept no radio transssmissssionsss.” He brought his back half closer and curled around.

Polaris fired a different shot at the remains of the virus, neutralizing its threat. “Okay, that’s the one Scorpio detected. We’ll need to wait on… security, inform us if there’s any more Nightmares around.”

“Scanning in progress,” the computer informed them. It couldn’t tell them if there were others until it was done. There were no more broken programming loops, at least.

The orange-haired reploid nodded once. “Okay then we just… hmm?”

“What isss it?” the snake asked.

“There’s a hand over there.” He stepped carefully through the metal scraps to a pile where a pale skinned hand could be seen. “It could be…” he tugged at it, then cleared some debris. “Yeah, I think there’s a body here.”

“Thisss area isssn’t cleared for body dissposssal,” Vilpent said, slithering forward to help. His monkey helper hopped up and began pitching parts around.

“Well you’re new around here. It doesn’t matter if it’s cleared or not. People still come in and dump bodies, human, animal, and reploid.” Now that the body was coming into view, they could see that the fellow had an electronic panel under some ripped skin. Oddly enough, there was a blindfold over his eyes. “Especially if it’s an execution, like this might be.”

“Ssshould we call the authoritiesss?” Vilpent asked, concerned.

Polaris shook his head. “No, not for a reploid. It’s a shame, but they won’t respond. If they do, it’s brushed off as a gang incident, or Mavericks hurting Mavericks. If it was a human, then yes, we’d be calling right now.”

Finished with its scan, the computer spoke up again. “No more viral bodies detected. Systems will be under heightened security for a period of time in case of a reemergence. Please leave the C-4 tunnels as soon as possible so that normal operations can start up.”

“We will.” Polaris tugged at the reploid’s corpse, checking to see how loose the pile was. “Scorpio might be able to revive him. If not, we can recycle him for parts. It’s a bit grisly, yes, but in this place, we don’t let much go to waste.”

“Ssscertainly.” He flicked his tongue out. “It issss amazssing what that ssscorpion can do.”

“Yeah. Okay, here we go.” He pulled at the corpse, but the blindfold came loose. Polaris gagged. “Oh my g… what happened to his eyes?”

The serpent shuddered. “That isss not right. I wonder what he did to get thossse instead of eyesss.”

After tightening the blindfold, the humanoid reploid picked up the dead one. “Let’s get going. The computer will start harassing us if we stick around too long.”

The ARC security system watched the two reploids and one monkey mechaniloid leave. Once they were safely out, it settled itself on running the day’s recycling tasks. Aside from the watch for viruses, what had happened just then was of little importance to the recycling center.

It would be life changing for one of the reploids.

* * *

 

The A-tunnels were much nicer than the C-tunnels. For one, there was no junk crammed into them. For another, most of the weaponry in the walls had been removed. It was kept clean by cleaning drones and had been repainted by various residents. Although not much could be done to hide evidence that the weaponry had once existed. Deep recesses and jammed panels still dotted the walls.   
  
“Why were there ssso many weaponsss here?”

“ARC used to be a military outpost,” Polaris explained, still carrying the reploid corpse over his shoulder. “Then it was a Maverick base when the military left it. The humans had stripped out all their weapons, so most of what you see is the Mavericks’ work; that was around the second Sigma war. When they were defeated, the government took over and reformed it to the recycling center it is today.” He stopped and nodded at the monkey mechaniloid, who opened a door for them. “And then, of course, the last overseer reploid Metal Shark Player went Maverick, so the weapons got rearmed. Some of them, anyhow. They haven’t made another overseer reploid yet, we assume because they don’t want to waste funds.”

Vilpent gave him an amused look. “You’re quite familiar with the hissstory of thisss placsse.”

He gave the snake a sheepish smile. “I’ve been here for a long time.” Glancing around, he didn’t see the doctor of the center, but there was an empty exam table that should be okay. He placed the corpse there. “Scorpio, we’re back!”

“I know,” he grumbled from somewhere. A flap opened and he came in. As a red-brown scorpion reploid, Scorpio was five feet long plus a curled up tail, but had a body stance less than a foot off the floor. Noticing something on the table, he grabbed a lever with his tail appendage to lower the table. “What did you drag in this time?”

“A corpse that was deep in the C-4 tunnel,” he replied. “He looks pretty well intact from the outside.”

“Yes, but he might be fried on the inside.” Once the table was at his level, Scorpio started looking over the victim. “Died in battle, likely due to some sonic-based weapon. His inner workings might be crushed, which would make them useless. I’ll check out his core anyhow. It might just be a resurrection challenge. What’s the greasy blindfold for?”

“It was on him when we found him,” Polaris said. “He doesn’t have normal eyes. What he has instead is... squishy and disturbing.” He shuddered.

“Huh. Well humans are squishy and disturbing in my view. I’ll work on anybody, disgusting eyes or not. All right, I’ve got your payments over here.” He left the body for a cubbyhole in the wall. He took one money envelope and handed it to Vilpent’s servant. “So thanks for helping out this coward. We don’t have anyone beyond him, and you now, that can deal with those pesky Nightmares.”

“You’re welcome,” the serpent said. “I’m glad I could be of sssome ussse. I jussst don’t have that nuetralizasssion program.”

“Right, I might be able to rig you something. And here you go, Polaris. I’ve also got a package for you.” After handing over the moneybag, he also pulled out a box. “It should be your paints.”

He brightened as he took the box. And yes, it was from the art supply company. “Great, thanks! I needed them.”

“Okay, now scoot. I’ve got projects to work on, no chatting to do.”

“Right. See you later, Scorpio.”

Vilpent slithered out of the lab, coiling himself while the monkey held open the door. “It wasssn’t that bad. And it happensss about every month, right?”

Polaris nodded as he walked down the hall with his new friend. “Right, ever since the Hunters cleared out the original outbreak. But there’s usually more than one, so another might be found in a day or two.”

“Well jussst call me up when it happensss. If you’ll pardon me, I have sssomething elssse to take care of.”

“I understand. See you later, Vilpent.”

“Later, Polarisss.” He slithered on with his monkey mechaniloid at his side.

Having his own things to do, Polaris went to the bank to deposit the cash. Then he went back to the A tunnels to his apartment. While there were other things he probably should do, he had new tubes of paint, which meant that he could finish.

His apartment had four rooms and one closet. The entry room was the largest: it had a couch, his sleeping pod hidden behind a screen, some multipurpose milk crates, a cabinet with books, and six tables. The six tables had all been junk, thrown away by previous owners. Polaris found them in the upper yard before the sorting machines took them to the wood disposal area. He fixed up structural problems, then covered the whole surface in rubber cement. In that, he placed all sorts of interesting bits. Keys, tiles, board game pieces, buttons, marbles, bottle fragments, just any little thing he could find. After covering the surface with a piece of glass, he could sell it to the pawn shop for forty dollars.

Just ahead were the bathroom and closet; he kept both neater than the rest of his apartment due to the number of projects he had going all the time. To the right of the entrance was the kitchen. He loved his kitchen, even though his equipment was so-so. His stove was the worst, as it had a temper and had to be watched closely so nothing burned. On the counters were the flour and sugar containers, as well as muffin tins. Right, there was that to do as well. But it could wait a bit longer.

He went into the room on the left, his studio. It had an odd assortment of old paintbrushes, a handmade easel, a three-legged stool, rags, boxes, jars, and two finished paintings. One of the paintings was a watercolor, of a cherry tree in bloom. The other was done in acrylic, of an old rusted hand that had once belonged to a reploid, as well as some beetles. While the watercolor was hung on the wall, the acrylic was stuck behind a group of milk crates.

On the easel was the nearly finished portrait of Vilpent. He was such an interesting reploid, and he had never dismissed Polaris simply because he was a coward. One could take a photograph of anything and anyone, but a painting was something special. At least, Polaris thought so. He hoped Vilpent would understand. He was painting his friend out of respect.

But then he’d run out of paints. Determined to make use of every single drop, he had cut open the yellow and blue tubes. And when he’d checked the green, he discovered that some bug had gotten in it. As it was ruined, he had to throw it out. Fortunately, he was at a point where waiting on new paints was no problem.

“And now, to finish you,” he stated quietly, prepping his things. For a moment, he thought about the nightmare he had woken up from. Sometimes he painted out those things. But for now, he wanted to forget the times that had inspired that nightmare.

* * *

 

February 2156

He couldn’t tell what it was to be not being. He had not been, and then he was activated. But in the time of not being, he couldn’t know it.

It was dim and there was shouting. Rage fueled shouting amid harsh beating rhythmic noises, “I can’t live with these rules you’ve made, I can’t live with these people around, I can’t live with this world you’ve made!” Blasting so loud that he felt it, it seemed to surround him, indicating violence all around. His power kicked into high gear and readiness programs quickly fell into place. _The only way you’re going to continue being is to destroy that which threatens you._

Noting that he was in armor and was armed, he sat up, shifted his hand to a buster, then fired at the strongest source of the noise. A burst of yellow plasma struck a stereo, ripping it apart with a screeching death wail. The rubble hit the floor with a clatter. _Take stock of your surroundings and be ready, for enemies are everywhere._ Shifting his legs so that he could spring away faster, he did just that.

It was a messy room. Tools were lying on every surface or hanging on inappropriate spots. On one wall of the room, an array of fifteen monitors showed pictures of various areas, some switching between cameras. Three computers separate from that were sitting in other parts of the room, one even inactive. The closest one was hooked up to the work pod he was lying in; the pod could provide good cover, being thick and sturdy. And there was another person in the room with him.

_He is armed and he could be dangerous. You are powerful; prove your authority._

The male got up from the other active computer, looking at the ruined stereo, then him. “That was faster…” he started to say. Then he fired at the other, causing him to activate an energy barrier. “Hold it; I’m not your enemy.”

He fired again, dropping behind the pod. There were a few spots he could observe through. First, he’d have to find a way to get rid of that energy barrier. Then he could have the advantage instead of the disadvantage.

As the other got up and walked over, he watched warily for an attack. “I’m not your enemy,” he repeated. “My name is Serges, and I’m one of the two who created you.” He stopped on the other side of the pod, but stayed there. After a second, he chuckled. “I suppose I shouldn’t have had the music on so loud when activating you, but I thought I would have another few minutes before you were fully up.”

One of the two who had created him? _That’s nonsense; he isn’t the Master. The Master is… is…_

_Is…._

Drawing a total blank, the new one got up slowly, watching the other for sudden movements or attacks. But nothing came of it. Serges offered his hand, but made it an obvious motion to help him back into the pod. Taking it, he sat back there and observed him cautiously.

“I’d say we have you done right,” he said, proudly. “We haven’t gotten the control chip to install in you, so you’re just the base for Zero. Yet you went right into action. Hold still, as I need to check on you when running.” He turned to find the tools he needed, taking a minute to do so. Then he began a close examination, asking him to do specific actions.

The Zero copy did as asked. The nagging voice in his head wasn’t happy with that, but if this was one of his makers, he’d better be obedient. Looking through his mental files, he could tell that the voice was a part of him and yet not a direct part of his thoughts. It could intrude in on them _and I am a necessary part of your being._

If that was the case, then there wasn’t a problem with it. But what was its purpose? What was his purpose?

Although he had a feeling that there should be a reference to that somewhere in his programming, he couldn’t find a purpose. He seemed to have two parts: his own self and a symbiotic virus that was responsible for those other thoughts. They were combined so closely that they could not function fully without each other. But although the Zero copy could find that information, he couldn’t find why he had been made this way. He was just a base for Zero, so maybe it was unnecessary to be anything more.

That seemed rather discouraging.

“You appear to be functioning just fine,” Serges said, examining the screen on one of his tools. “Could even continue operating like this, at least for a little while. So even the back-up plan should work out fine.” He paused, biting down on his lower lip. The copy looked to him, curious about the pause. “In that case, let me tell you something. Your other creator is Sigma. He got me the plans and general programming, while I manufactured, assembled, and tweaked everything. But don’t trust Sigma. I don’t think his plans are going to work out in the end. I should be able to do things better. I just have to find out how to make things work for me. Working on you has taught me much.” He smiled. “We’re not ready to have you out and about yet. I’ll deactivate you for now, but you should be reawakened soon. I’ll see you then; lie back down.”

The copy Zero nodded and did so. Then he was not being again, but still couldn’t tell what that was like. It was not being.

* * *

 

There were warning buzzers and impatient beeps in his hearing first. Before long, his combat programs started to activate, implying that he may have to fight for his new life again. He sat up quickly, as the construction pod had already let him go. On the wall before him, there was a bank of fifteen monitors and security stations. There was a sign above them that stated ‘X Hunters Castle, Station 6’. Most of the monitors were giving off unheeded warnings and alerts. And Serges was nowhere in sight.

_Get a grip on the situation; when you are called to battle, you will need to act immediately._

Black Zero looked around at the thoughts of the virus. It was something to trust. Around him, the room was a total mess. Tools were scattered about even worse than before, completely unorganized. A tall rolling toolbox was against a wall, but it would be a weak cover. Overhead, the lights were flickering, indicating that power was being drawn elsewhere at the moment. There were no outright weapons in the room aside from what he had, a buster gun equipped to his right arm and a plasma saber that was in a hidden hip pocket. Some of the items in the room were damaged, although it appeared to be someone taking out frustrations rather than a battle.

_You were created to wage a war of destruction, a war of vengeance. I can tell that much, but information is still missing. We need information. We should be able to find much of it in this room. But find the situation of the world first, as that may best direct our path._

In this room? He got up and went to the computer screens, looking for that information. But there seemed to be the ruins of a failed plan there, not the designs of an unstarted plan. He saw that individuals like Magna Centipede, Agile, and Overdrive Ostrich had been destroyed, along with others. And Serges; he had been killed by someone called X. According to another screen, the Maverick Hunters, in particular X, were plotting to invade the X Hunter castle. It asked for a strategy and defense plan.

_Being that I can’t identify the Master anymore, you were right; we’d best follow the ones who made us. And that one who killed him, X, he seems to be coming. We should find out about this location then and figure out how to get revenge._

The thoughts of the virus were bitter now, but were interrupted by the sounds of boots walking down the hall outside the room. Black Zero zoned out the virus; he felt that it would do what it needed to when it needed to. Getting up quietly, he checked on the door. It would slide upwards most likely. As the footsteps were going left, he went to the right side of the doorway. He pulled out his saber, getting it ready.

_Find your rewards in the destruction and humiliation of your foes._

The door slid open with a hum and Black Zero activated his blade and tried to attack the person who entered the room. But he found his swing blocked by another plasma blade. The green and red glows illuminated a stony humanoid face. However, the look of his black eyes was amused more than angered. “So you have finally awakened. Stand down. I am Sigma, the one who created you. I don’t know if Serges had you up previously, but if he did, don’t trust anything he told you. He assisted me, but now I have reason to believe that he was undermining us.”

On hearing that, Black Zero felt confused. Serges had said not to trust Sigma, but Sigma turned that the other way around. Which one should he trust?

_It is a puzzle, so observe this one. But if he means to bring destruction, we can trust him some. You will like watching the weak ones squirm in pain, hearing them scream in fear. Be prepared to wage war and destruction on everything and everyone._

Sigma observed him, then searched in one of his armor pockets. “We’ve been set back some. You should be becoming the original, but for now, you’ll have to stay a clone. I do have need of your services shortly. However, there is still some time for you to prepare yourself. Take this: it will give you more specific information about your enemy.”

Black Zero took the offered data drive. _Which enemy? I am lacking much information, and without a clear goal, it is hard to say who our enemy is. It may even be him._

Stepping through the messy room, Sigma said, “That data is on X, a Maverick Hunter. With the help of some others, I have built you to strike at his soul, not just his body. If those others had been more effective, you would have everything you need to know now. I still have confidence that you can do this. It will also give you the location of a training room, which you should take advantage of to know the feel of your attacks. If you excuse me, I need to work on the systems here.” Sigma then went over to the monitors and began running through the alerts, silencing the noise.

Black Zero studied the drive. Even after Sigma had left the room, he reviewed the data. X was a tricky foe, although he did not appear to be. He was very human. Not even an intimidating human. Maybe an older teenager in simple blue armor, that was how he looked most of the time. But he could change. He could adapt strategies on the fly. He could adjust his own armor: change the color, make it tougher, make it stronger, make it faster. He could adjust his weapon, copying defeated foes and making those powers stronger.

X even battled Sigma, in a situation that highly favored the latter. And X won.

_But we are made to destroy and he has destroyed one of our creators. X will die._

X would die. Black Zero felt confident. Now he simply had to wait for his father’s return and find out where X was.

_Waiting is stupid. Let’s go practice._

Actually, yes, that was the better option. He left the disorganized lab and headed for the training area.

* * *

 

He had been barely a day old, even counting the few minutes Serges had him alive, but he had already spent much of it fighting. Mostly simulation work, against false foes, but he had fought some crazed mechaniloids who couldn’t tell the difference between friend and foe. There was something deep inside him that relished that, but felt unsatisfied in it. He was supposed to _wash the whole world clean, in blood if need be, to kill the disease, if we can find what’s wrong in order to correct it with force…_ but he had only run into two other intelligent beings so far, the men who had built him. Sigma and Serges.

He followed a step behind and to the right of Sigma, just behind the violet cloak he wore, rippling against the movement of his legs and upper body. He had felt that it was wrong, that he ought to be the one in charge. And yet, something seemed off too and he felt that he needed to be obedient and loyal to the tall reploid in front of him. These differing and conflicting ideas were facing off against each other, trying to decide who was right. To make things worse, the virus was split on the issue too.

Passing a long window, Black Zero glanced out it briefly before looking in it, at his reflection. It was a pale reflection of a humanoid male reploid, given a Caucasian appearance of peach skin and blue eyes. His hair was long and white, while his armor was streamlined and black. From the records, this wasn’t quite the original Zero. Why had they made him this way instead?

And then Sigma spoke up, in a deep and steady voice. “You were built as a near exact replica of Zero, the one we owe our new lives to, even if he does not accept it somehow. We were going to upload Zero’s personality and memory data into you, but were unable to acquire that data. So we made further adjustments and decided to activate you as a blank sheet, to see what would come from it. I would have liked to give you more time, but the enemy has moved too fast and is approaching us as we speak.”

The enemy. He wondered if Sigma meant the Maverick Hunters. But it seemed that anything could happen and anything could be. He had awoken first to blaring speakers, a beeping alarm, bright and quick changing screens, a lab that was in bad disarray. It was all kind of frightening. But, he was stronger than any of that. He was stronger than any of them, even his co-builder walking ahead of him. So why should he be afraid? Then again, he had little to reference normalcy to, or the definitions of his allies and enemies.

“I’m speaking of X Light. He has invaded this place again, searching for me. He has already taken the true Zero from us. So I need you to fight in his stead. Fulfill your task as he has somehow forgotten to do. Zero is the one who is supposed to lead us to a perfect world, like the north star Polaris led in ancient times. But X has distracted him from his true purpose.”

X. Black Zero nodded to that. While he still wasn’t sure which man to trust, they had both worked towards activating him. So it would be fine to avenge Serges’ death, even if he was the one not to trust. He wasn’t alive anymore to lie, after all.

“Serges and I spent a lot of time, effort, and money into making sure we got you right,” Sigma said. “And so far, your data indicates that it was worth it. Now it is time for you to prove it, by getting rid of X. I will be there with you, and…”

He stopped dead in his tracks, ignoring Sigma’s words. There was something on the wall that just stood out to him for some reason. It was nothing more than a framed painting. And yet, the image seemed so serene, so unlike the chaos that had been his day of life so far. There were… it was a lot of green with pink. In the bottom corner, there was ‘cherry blossoms’ in small letters. What did he make of that? It was… it was so unlike everything else that he knew and felt that it seemed like something he wanted to grasp.

Sigma realized quickly that he had stopped and turned to see why. “What is it?”

Uncertain of the words, Black Zero ran his tongue over his lips. He lifted his hand and pointed to the picture. That strange, exotic, beautiful picture.

However, Sigma did not seem quite as affected by the picture. “Oh, that. What is that doing there? I thought they said that they had removed all of the useless human artifacts from this place.” Sigma then punched the picture, destroying the glass frame and ripping a large hole in the peaceful picture.

He felt shocked, and somehow hurt by the loss of that enigmatic thing. He didn’t want to be rid of it. He wanted to take it and figure out why it made him feel so strange, quiet.

But then Sigma turned and went on. “It’s worthless. Come on.”

Worthless. The Zero copy looked at it a bit longer, then followed Sigma to a nearby room. He wondered if he should say something. _I’m afraid that you can’t manage that. Those idiots neglected to complete your speech system. Maybe we should trust neither._

Sigma had no problem with talking to a mute follower, though. “You will have your foe soon. We will make him suffer.”

Black Zero smiled at that. _If you find a foe more persistent than normal, seek to humiliate it. Don’t just destroy it. Make it see that its existence is a pitiful effort compared to the perfect force of destruction that you are._

“Just let me speak with him first,” Sigma stated. “Concentrate your _hate and anger_ against this naïve fool. _You will destroy him, even if it means your destruction._ ”

_You should be doing that, not him. He may be a foe right in view. But wait and destroy X first. He is an enemy of kzzzzzzzkkkzzzt… reference file missing. That’s annoying me._

Wincing at the odd feedback, Black Zero followed Sigma into a hallway. It had flat gray walls and an open archway at the other end. In the depths of the tunnels before them, they heard blasts from a buster gun. He looked to his maker, who nodded. That was their enemy.

He came to them a couple of minutes later, pausing a moment to look them over. He wasn’t wearing the simple blue armor the data drive had him in. Instead, X had a white and gold armor that seemed more powerful than his usual. For a moment, he looked at Black Zero in shock and bewilderment. But that soon faded into a harsher look, that of a judge ready to give and execute a sentence.

“Well it’s taken you some time,” Sigma taunted, “but you have finally arrived. But X, before I put the last part of my plans in motion, it seems that your old friend is very angry with how your last encounter went.”

Black Zero’s systems were all focused on hating this enemy. He tried to convince himself that X was little more than a bug that needed to be squashed thoroughly and completely. But, he felt detached from any significant reason to do so. _You could see him as a challenge to your power; we know that he is powerful. Be ready for an intense fight._

At that point, X was affected by a great many things. He had not actively served in the Maverick Hunters for long, but already he had led the combat efforts in two wars, lost his closest friend and mentor, regained some hope when his control chip was found, had some doubt when others had taken his parts, suffered a great deal of violence in reclaiming those parts, and now was facing a strange spiteful copy of Zero. X was stressed out and angry; it could be seen in the sharp glare of his green eyes, the way his free hand clenched into a fist. “That is not Zero,” he hissed.

“Are you so certain? Zero is not who you think he is,” Sigma said, speaking as if it were a perfect counter argument. “We will show you that.” And they both attacked.

Despite being outnumbered, X fought skillfully. He avoided their attacks, never gave them a pattern to crack, and pulled off strange abilities that shouldn’t have been possible with his body. He could do anything.

But the Zero copy enjoyed the challenge of the fight. It wasn’t like the mindless mechaniloids, who often died in one blow, or the holographic trainer which fell into all too easy patterns to manipulate. This was actually pushing his abilities to the limits and he liked that. That is, until someone decided to take a cheap shot at him.

All that he knew was that there had been a blast from close behind him, a buster being fired. Before he could react, there was horrible burning pain piercing in his back, through a crack that had gotten on his armor from X’s attacks. And then as suddenly as it came, it was gone. His body collapsed to the floor, having its movement systems cut off completely from his neck down. His face smashed into the floor, but he couldn’t do anything about that. Just keep his eyes open and see the world from a very limited position.

“You’re a fool, Sigma, to think you can copy me,” the real Zero said, just before entering the fray with X. The copy could see his red and white boots walk a few steps, then dash away in a flare of yellow light. And the fight carried on, ignoring the fallen participant.

But to his horror, he could not move.

And then Sigma’s body fell. But something of him remained. Black Zero knew because he distinctly heard Sigma’s voice whisper to him, “ _So you were nothing but a complete waste of time. Worthless_.” Then the voice was gone.

_Worthless? Then he is the one not to be trusted. We should take revenge on Zero for that sneak attack. But… we need to be much stronger…._

“Zero, you’re back on duty already?” X asked. The copy knew that the voice should inspire hatred in him. Instead, he found himself growing afraid. Was this the end for him? What would they do to him?

“There’s no time to waste,” Zero said sharply. “This isn’t over; something big is going on. Let’s go.”

“Right,” X said. And then they both left the room. Ignoring him completely, like he wasn’t worth their time and effort either.

He was just going to be left alone, helpless, all because he was worthless. He wasn’t even six hours old and he was a worthless failure.


	3. The ARC Community

March 2194

While he lived in a junkyard, Polaris liked to keep his space neat. Putting the last of his dishes in the drying rack, he looked around his kitchen area for any missed mess. It all looked okay. He tucked the red dishtowel in the wicker basket better, then picked it up along with a large art bag. This morning, he had a couple of errands to run.

He headed for the B-tunnels, where the majority of ARC’s residents lived. They weren’t all reploids. In fact, there were quite a number of humans here. But all the residents had some things in common. For one, they were nearly all poor. Many were destitute, unable to live anywhere besides a slum underneath a junkyard. They weren’t supposed to be here, but the Asian government never did anything about them. Despite the dangers, despite the reoccurring Nightmare infestations, the poor of the area continued to drift here, hoping to eventually drift on to a better place.

There were also those who chose to live here. These ones were often erratic, insane, and dangerous. Among them were serial killers, robbers, former gang members, ‘former’ Mavericks. The law really had little push here. While a few acted as a security force to keep the more dangerous members in check, confrontations still ended in death more often than not. One really had to be desperate to live in ARC.

And then there was Polaris. He lived here because… he had lived nowhere else. Despite the Sigma Wars, despite the management shifts, despite everything, he was still here. In some ways, he could not leave.

He looked down at the ground as he thought that. He wished it were not true. But, how could he change that? He wasn’t a human. It was incredibly hard to change a reploid’s programming and if one had been hardwired with a handicapped personality, well, that reploid was out of luck. On the other hand, humans could grow and change far easier.

But this wasn’t a day to dwell on that. He stopped at apartment B-342 and knocked. “It’s Polaris, good evening.”

The red light over the round door shifted to blue, then the door rolled aside. Vilpent slithered into view. “Good evening. Would you like to come in?”

“Just for a bit. I’ve got something for you.” He stepped down, put the basket aside, then pulled the framed painting out of the art bag. “Here, I painted this for you.”

The snake slithered forward and flicked his tongue across the surface. “I don’t sssee color well.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No need to be…” he lifted himself up to eye level with Polaris. “It isss sssurprisssing. I never thought sssomeone would take the time to paint a portrait of me.”

He smiled. “You’re a good friend, and I wanted to do it. You can do whatever you like with it.”

“Thank you. I think we could put it on the wall there.” He nodded to his mechaniloid, who hopped over to assist Polaris in putting it up.

“That helps spruce up your place,” Polaris said, glancing around at the apartment. It was about the same size as his own. “There’s not much in here.”

“I do not have need of many thingsss,” the snake replied. He flicked his tongue out. “Sssomething sssmellsss delicsssiousss.”

“Oh, those are pumpkin muffins. I’m giving them to a girl I like, see.”

“Ah. I wasss not aware that you had a girlfriend.”

He blushed. “I don’t, but I’m hoping. It’s Alyssa.”

“That girl? I met her a little while ago. Ssshe ssseemsss to be a nicssse one. Well then I ssshouldn’t delay you. Good luck, Polarisss.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll see you around.” With a nod of thanks to the monkey, he picked up the basket and left for her apartment.

He could use some luck in this venture. A week ago, she’d left on a trip to Las Vegas. Polaris had spoken with her before she left, hoping that he could work up the nerve to ask to go along. But when he’d never left this maze of tunnels for so many years, it required more nerve than he could muster. During the conversation, Alyssa had mentioned that she might slip over to another city to buy muffins from her favorite bakery. She’d also mentioned that they wouldn’t have her favorite kind, because they only made pumpkin muffins in the fall.

This little detail had become a quest for Polaris, to find a good pumpkin muffin recipe that would make her like him. He’d searched the internet, experimented with several formulas, argued with his stove, and found a spiced pumpkin muffin that he liked best. Of course, if she had gone to her favorite bakery, it might be a wasted effort. They would have far better equipment than he wished he could have. But it could be the break he wanted.

He knocked on her door, then looked at his feet. No, he corrected himself, look at the door. He gripped the basket’s handle, thinking of when he’d offered to cook for Alyssa. He’d offered three times, but she’d only accepted once. That had been a near disaster. Flustered by her acceptance, he couldn’t get into his usual rhythm and nearly overcooked the cheese sauce. He’d been able to fix that, true, but it worried him the whole evening. He’d messed up one more time, forgetting to add a bit of salt to the peas.

She said that she had enjoyed the meal and had thanked him nicely. But he hadn’t been able to get much past talking to her. It had worried him for a week after that it had been one of the worst meals he’d ever made. Not the worst, no. His stubborn stove had burned more than its fair share of food. When he almost gave up on making progress, she had come over with a gift for him, a handmade shirt. And so he kept trying. He would think often, now will be when I tell her how I feel, but on meeting with her, he couldn’t.

What was taking her so long? He rocked back on his heels, then reprimanded himself to stand still. And at least look confident, even if he wasn’t. Polaris wanted to give the muffins while they were warm from the oven. Alyssa could warm them up later if she wanted, but muffins were always best fresh.

Then he heard her footsteps. Another cold flutter rushed up his systems. He could do this, he really could. He had to. He’d been trying for six months. Already Scorpio was pestering him about another pointless round.

Alyssa was smiling when the door lifted. She was wearing clothes of her own make, as usual: a lavender blouse under a green vest and black pants. With a lace choker, she was as beautiful as always. “Good evening Polaris! How’re you doing?

“Good evening,” he said, smiling with his core thumping nervously. “I’m all right. I was trying a new recipe and wondered if you wanted to try them. It’s some pumpkin muffins; I happened to find some canned pumpkin on sale recently.”

She leaned over and sniffed the air. A sense of taste and the ability to eat were something of a luxury to reploids, but many of them had it. With good reason, as it made it easier for humans to relate and socialize with them. Polaris in particular was thankful that he had a sense so keen that he made a pretty decent cook and baker. “Oh, they smell lovely. Thank you; I’ve always loved your cooking.”

“Baking,” he said, feeling bashful for correcting her. Wasn’t that rude? But maybe he could use this to ask her out on a date. But that asking had to come out perfect. No stammering, but no sounding desperate. He just had to word it carefully.

“Either one is good,” Alyssa said, oblivious to his flustered thoughts or politely ignoring them. “Come on in. Besides, you need to meet someone.”

Someone? Wondering who it could be, he followed her inside. “All right. I worked hard on these.”

“You always do. Tully! Come out here.”

“What is it?” a male’s voice called out. He came out of the bathroom area. Based on the standard X-derivative model, he looked to be an average reploid, with brown hair and low-end green armor. But he had an arrogant confidence to his expression, quite clearly one who thought he was better than everybody else in the junkyard.

Who was he? Polaris felt his mouth go dry, his delicate stand of bravery dashed to pieces. Maybe it was her brother. He wished Tully was her brother. Because if he turned out to be Alyssa’s boyfriend…

“This is my new husband, Tully,” Alyssa said happily, taking Tully’s arm. “Dear, this is one of my good friends, Polaris. I’ve told you about him, the artist.”

“Oh right. Hello.” He offered to shake hands with him.

Although he gave a small smile as he took the offer, Polaris felt devastated. Her husband? Even in his paranoid mind, he hadn’t thought that she might get married. Then it was true that anybody could get married in Las Vegas. If he had just had the courage to join her, maybe it could have been him instead. But this was a lost cause now. “Nice to meet you, Tully,” he said, shaking his hand.

He returned the smile. Was that a proud glint in his eyes, though? Polaris imagined that Tully must realize the he wanted more than just friendship out of Alyssa. And since he was the victor, he had every right to gloat about it. But he played it nice. “You too, Polaris.”

Alyssa seemed oblivious to the undertones of the two’s exchanges. “And we made a good amount of money, so we were able to get jobs and an apartment back in Vegas. But I had some things to take care of here, so he came with me to help.”

Although he had dreaded her moving before, Polaris welcomed hearing this. “That’s good. I hope it works out for you two.”

He continued the small talk for a while, but it just came to be too much. Excusing himself on non-existent errands, he left her apartment. Sometimes, he cursed his ability to love.

* * *

 

Polaris sat on the floor of Scorpio’s lab, assisting him. The doctor was repairing one of the residents who’d gotten too close to one of the machines. This resulted in getting his legs chewed off. Since they had to make do with what was available, Scorpio replaced them with legs an inch shorter. The operation went quietly.

Until Scorpio said, “You look miserable.”

“I feel that way,” he admitted.

“Hmph. It’s that girl, isn’t it?”

“Alyssa? Yeah, she got married. I was trying so hard to impress her too, but I don’t think she even noticed.”

“Girls are fickle things. That one got married while drunk, as I heard it.” He connected a few pieces, then laughed. “Maybe I should’ve made you go with her. It’d be interesting to see what you do after downing a few beers.”

Polaris felt his ears get warm, so he looked away. “I, I’d rather not. I might do something I’ll regret later.”

Clicking his mandibles, Scorpio seemed nearly disappointed. Polaris never liked it when he did that. The bug reploid’s mouthpiece was devious looking, like an intimidating weapon or a torture device. “Always a thinker, aren’t you? That and your loss of fighting abilities makes you a really shoddy Zero knock-off.”

That made him flinch. “I’ve told you, it was either my fighting skills or my art skills, and I chose art.”

Scorpio gave a leg wave movement that was the equivalent of a shrug. “Your life, you can ruin it however you want. I am glad, in a way. If you were even just a decent knock-off, we would have the Maverick Hunter’s attention constantly on us.”

And that would mean… Polaris shivered at the thought. “Right.” He paused, trying to think of things other than Alyssa. “I have noticed my artistic talent has hit another plateau.”

“No,” Scorpio said firmly. “I’ll tell you a million times if I must: you cannot sacrifice any more of your fighting skills.”

“But Vilpent’s here now.”

“And who knows how long that snake is going to stick around? Or survive. You two just faced one Nightmare in the shredder tunnel, but you know how it is when we get a whole swarm of them in an infestation, in the living quarters. We need you around to fight them so we don’t have to call the ******* Maverick Hunters out here. If we get busted, every single resident of ARC is going to be in trouble. You, me, the humans, the reploids, everybody. Need I remind you that everyone, including the workers, is willingly breaking the law, sometimes many laws, just in living here? You need to keep somewhat competent against the Nightmares so that everyone can be safe from arrests and lawsuits.”

He winced at the lecture. “Right, right… I’m sorry.”

“Shoddy knock-off,” Scorpio grumbled. “Get my cleaning bit.”

As much as he disliked the scorpion’s way of talking to him, Polaris knew he couldn’t do much against him. He owed the bug reploid his life and sanity, after all. He got up and pulled the required part out of a drawer. “Here you go.”

He took it in his front legs, which had some digits to work with, then swapped his tail’s smallest screwdriver bit for it. He then handed the screwdriver bit over to be put away. All the while, he said nothing more.

The quiet felt uncomfortable. And it gave him more time to think about Alyssa… no, something else. Scorpio would taunt him for doing that. “How was that albino reploid we found in the C-4 tunnels?”

Making a pleased clicking sound, Scorpio replied, “He was a total loss. No chance of revival even by my skills.”

“So why do you sound pleased about it?”

“Because some parts of him were salvageable, and one of those was a complete breakthrough in one of my studies.” Then he chuckled. “Don’t flinch like that. It wasn’t his eye problems. That’s something current day Mavericks do to those they feel are traitors, to shame and alienate them. No this Maverick… he had a very unique viral program. I’ve been trying for decades to get my claws on this and you just stumble across him in the trash. I have a theory about the Mavericks, about the virus, but this program has always been my missing piece. And now, I have it ready to experiment with.”

“You have a unique virus to experiment with?” Polaris asked, leaning back some.

“Yes, and I wanted you to be a part of it.”

He held his hands up. “Whoa, no way! I remember what it was like to be infected and I don’t want that again. You know that. You’re the one who made my strain go dormant so that I didn’t flip out and go mad like my creator.”

“And that’s why you’re the only one I feel truly safe experimenting with this strain on,” Scorpio countered. “I know how the virus works in your systems. I’ve observed it many times, both in dormancy and in activity. You know that. I can make your virus come out of dormancy and put it right back in with no memory loss on your part. And I know how to restrain you, to predict what you’ll do. I wouldn’t even put this program in myself because I might lose control when I need a cool head for this. You know enough about it personally that you could control yourself. This is extremely important research, Polaris.”

“Why? If I’m going to be risking myself to this experiment, I want to know what it’s about before I agree to do it.”

“It’s about your creator,” Scorpio said. “It’s about Sigma.”

Feeling a sense of dread, Polaris asked, “What about him?”

“You must have heard me complain about it so many times. I was one of his researchers, but he would not tell me everything that he knew. I know this! And one of the things he kept secret was his status as a Master Virus.”

“But there can be only one master. And there are only two reploids that could be that master, him and Zero.”

“So he told you. And so he told everyone else. However, I think it’s possible to make a new Master Virus. There’s your very existence, for one. You are a copy of Zero. I may call you a shoddy one, but you may have what it takes.”

“I don’t think I want that,” Polaris said quietly.

He pretended not to hear it. “There is also another possibility. Do you know of the Maverick levels?”

“I can’t recall that.”

“There are three levels: the Master, the Shifter, and the Carrier. The Carriers make up the majority of Mavericks, the reploids plus any mechaniloids or computers affected by the Zero virus and its many strains. They can pass on the infection, but exactly how they have it. Plus, Carrier viruses tend to degenerate the further you get from the original source virus; those Mavericks are weaker. Now we know that there are multiple strains of the virus running amok. What happens when a reploid gets infected by two or more strains?”

“That can happen?” Polaris asked.

Scorpio confirmed that. “It does, and it’s messy. In most cases, the two strains oppose each other and battle it out for control of the host. This causes many incidents of Mavericks going insane faster or acquiring illness symptoms, as their minds and bodies become an electronic battlefield.”

“That sounds pretty bad. But, you said most cases.”

“That’s right. Every now and then, you get two Carrier virus strains that don’t fight. Instead, they fuse together and the Carrier Maverick becomes a Shifter Maverick. Now the Shifters are stronger than the Carriers. And they take longer to go insane or degenerate. This is because their Shifter virus can annihilate any Carrier virus that tries to invade their systems. But there are multiple Shifter strains as well, different development patterns, different boosts and deterioration.

“They are called Shifter Mavericks because they can initiate mutations of Carrier strains and pass those along instead of their standard derivative. Shifters cannot pass along the Shifter virus, although some sharper minded ones have figured out how to upgrade Carriers to Shifters. Shifters were often the commanders of the Maverick forces; I suspect that all who took personal orders from Sigma on a regular basis were Shifter Mavericks. Shifters can command Carriers.”

“And the Master can command them all,” Polaris added. “Could Sigma pass on a Shifter strain?”

“He could and he did. But this information leads us to a logical next step that Sigma denied being possible. If a Shifter catches another Shifter strain, they seemed to always end up like Carriers of incompatible strains. But what if you managed to get two Shifter strains that were compatible? Theoretically, they would fuse and create a secondary Master Virus. But that never happened.”

“Could he have eliminated any rival Masters?”

“Don’t think I haven’t considered that option. All he would have to do is misinform the new Master and leave it to the Maverick Hunters. But then Sigma always had abilities that were above and beyond anyone else, including the potential that he originally had before infection. There may be something else to being a Master Virus after all.”

“So what does it have to do with the albino reploid?”

Scorpio paused in his work to look at Polaris. “Your virus is dormant… but you are a Shifter Maverick. That dead guy was also a Shifter Maverick. And when I looked over his strain of virus, it appears to be perfectly compatible with your strain. I want to test what it takes to become a Master. That means putting your strain with his in you… and at least one other.”

“I can’t see how that will be safe,” Polaris said, deeply concerned. “You’re going to potentially have two Master Viruses around. The Hunters will surely notice. And what’s the point? I don’t want to go crazy and start wars against humanity.”

“This is scientifically important,” Scorpio insisted. “It will give us a clearer picture of what the virus is capable of and of how we can fight against it, or with it even. I think it can do even greater things than its creator realized. No one has done a sane study of this degree with the Zero virus, unless the Hunters are hiding things.” Sometimes Polaris doubted that Scorpio was entirely sane, but he wasn’t about to say that aloud. “If they are, they certainly aren’t telling anybody. And I know you’re not happy with the conditions of reploids today.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, although some ideas tried to get his attention. Like how he couldn’t leave the ARC area.

“Reploids are handicapped from the design stage on these days,” Scorpio said, anger about it showing in his tone and tapping foot. “We cannot compare to humans and in fact are graded by how much worse we are than humans. Except for X. X is very nearly human, so how is he the first of us? Of everyone else, even the best of us, we’re all gimped in one way or another to make sure that we stay under human control. Some are made purposely unsociable. Some are made incapable of feeling certain emotions. And some of us are barely able to feel any emotions besides self-preservation at all. I know you don’t like that.”

“Yes, but how’s being turned into a Master Virus going to help with that?”

“A Master Virus has complete conscious control of strain mutation. You have the potential to reprogram a reploid without killing them, to free them of their handicaps. I don’t know if it’s a talent you’ll have right off, or if it’s a skill that must be practiced. But you could do that.”

“Yeah, and drive them insane with violent impulses. I don’t want that.”

“Look, it doesn’t have to…” he looked at the patient. “Oh brother, this guy is going to come alert soon. Let’s get him all closed and sealed.”

“Fine,” Polaris stated, getting up to retrieve parts as Scorpio needed them.

“And don’t forget,” Scorpio added. “I am the one who saved you from yourself. I am the reason you have your art and can cook well. And I know what I’m doing. I am best suited for repairing you. So it is in your best interests to work with me.”

And then there was that argument. Polaris sighed. He couldn’t argue against that one.

* * *

 

The ARC community was primarily nocturnal. So that morning, Scorpio’s experiment went underway. It seemed he had gone around asking for volunteers. How much did the others know of this experiment? Polaris looked around the room, at the jovial manner of the other participants. Perhaps they were being deceived. It wouldn’t be the first time. Longtime residents knew that in Scorpio’s experiments, one never knew what the full results would end up being.

Alyssa and Tully were there. Half of Polaris’ mind was disgusted at how they would kiss like that in public. The other half wished that she were doing that to him. Although, maybe not in public. It would make him so self-conscious. Weren’t they supposed to be moving? He wished she would just go.

Seven others were also there, all hominoid about-average reploids. Or one could call them general riff-raff from around ARC. They were mostly ones he wouldn’t hang around for long: some gang members, a known thief, a ‘former’ Maverick, and a couple of Scorpio’s resurrection projects. They joked around with apparent ignorance to the nature of the experiment.

Then Scorpio came in. The thief abruptly said, “What’s your Igor doing around here?” Some others laughed at Polaris’ expense.

“He’s taking part in this experiment too,” he replied in his usual gruff tone. “Now, the lot of you are taking part in a potential breakthrough project. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you what it’s about. Some of you will get the actual program; some of you will get a blank install. This is so none of you expect what’s coming and imagine it happening. I don’t want any bias.’

Except that he told me, Polaris thought. Maybe because he had the highest chance of turning into a Master Virus. The prospect still scared him. But Scorpio was right; he practically owned Polaris and could do whatever he wanted with him.

“Can’t you give us a hint of what’s to come?” another asked.

“I can tell you that I’m paying you generously for this opportunity. I could pay you nothing and you stand the chance of benefiting massively. But that’s it. Now get in those research pods. I’ve sterilized them to every wire, so you have no reason to fear.”

Some of the others laughed as they followed his instructions. Polaris tried to swallow his nervousness as he stepped into one. Was this going to be the biggest mistake of his life?

Straps came out to secure him within the pod. Once he was in, the door shifted down to shut. There was no turning back.

* * *

 

February 2156

Two hours dragged by until the Zero copy was able to repair himself enough to stand back up. Unfortunately, this also reactivated his pain sensors, leaving much of his body to ache and the contact point of Zero’s shot to throb. He got up enough to fight some mechaniloids wandering around the room; they left behind energy capsules that would help his auto-repair process speed up briefly.

There were only six of them, but he managed to reduce the pain enough that he could consider what to do next. If his mission was to destroy X, he was doing a terrible job of it. If he knew more… surely there would be more information on X somewhere. He’d have to go looking for it. And for their next confrontation, he needed to be much better prepared.

One of the doors opened. Black Zero looked over. What he saw caused chills throughout his systems. X was back in the door he had entered earlier, still wearing his white and gold armor. Quickly, he spotted him and brought his buster arm to bear. “Zero, the copy’s still here!”

He got another try? Black Zero felt his energy pulse through his body, but it wasn’t the same kind of anticipation as before. This was dread. Was he going to end up paralyzed and defeated again? No, no he had to win. He had to prove that he was worth something. After a quick dash towards X, he leapt into the air, focusing his weapons energy into a large release when he landed by X. A wave of power erupted around him, knocking X back, but not down.

But X reacted just as quickly as he attacked, charging while jumping up and off the wall to avoid the heaviest damage from the next wave attack. Black Zero brought out his saber again and tried to block his foe’s attack, but X compensated. By flicking his arm just right, he got the copy to block in the wrong position so that the shot hit his left shoulder, the one he was using for the blade. The copy responded by flicking a switch on his blade that caused a wave burst to fly out.

“Is he infected?” Zero asked, right before using his dash ability to ram into his copy, knocking him out of setting up a combo hit on X while the latter was briefly stunned.

Great, now it was a two on one fight again, only this time to his disadvantage. The copy tried to keep his cool, but when he fired at Zero, he managed to deflect it with his sword and knock the blast right back into him. Despite only being a few feet away. This was not supposed to be happening… it shouldn’t be this way! Drawing on his viral power to be more effective, he swung wildly at Zero. He blocked, but then Black Zero kicked out his knees and tried to attack again. Still didn’t work… what was wrong with him?

“We must make certain to destroy him,” X said, in a serious voice. He fired a charged shot directly at the copy’s previous injury, and then Zero sliced him through with his plasma blade.

But the pain was only brief this time. The copy sensed the virus grab hold of him and then jump into the electrical system of the base. Feeling a strong sense of vertigo, he didn’t immediately realize what happened. Then he began to feel connections, thousands of them. As a being of energy, he could know everything the network knew, and could see out of any camera. He knew this when he looked and saw X and Zero there with his corpse.

“Did Sigma take a copy of you before he defected?” X asked. “Your build has rather narrow margins for error.”

“Who knows? Besides, we can’t take him in for study.” Zero looked down at the body, seemingly not disturbed at seeing his look-alike dead. “We should take him to the magma chambers, so it’s certain that he’s no longer infectious.”

“Right, we can’t leave any trace infection behind.” X went ahead to clear the hall while Zero picked the body up.

Would they wipe the whole system? Black Zero considered that terrifying. After all, he was in the system and he doubted the virus had plans for getting him out of that.

_What should we do then? Eliminate them?_

“No, that won’t do,” he said, although no sound left the wires he was inhabiting. “Can we take the infection out?”

_Unlikely, and even if it could, it would go against our mission._

“But you don’t even know what our mission is!” Black Zero said, moving himself to where he might control security of the base. “I was told to destroy X, but I’ve lost to him twice now. And I don’t even know if we should have trusted Sigma, or Serges, or who. Let’s just focus on surviving now.”

_I know we are supposed to spread weaker copies of myself._

“And we’re not going to do that if we alert them and force them to wipe the whole system with us in it. If we can’t take out the infection, then let’s just make it look like the place is clean. Tell anything that is infected to go hide in a shielded area and keep quiet, or something like that.” I’m not worthless, he thought to himself. I will find a way to prove that.

The virus obediently sent out his orders. Most of the mechaniloids obeyed; a few encountered the Maverick Hunters and tried to fight them. As could be expected, they failed and were destroyed. Meanwhile, the virus attempted to make the system around them appear uninfected. It rebooted various parts of the X Hunters Fortress and instructed the virus in them to go latent when things got restarted.

After X and Zero had thrown the body in the magma chamber, they observed the area. There were no mechaniloids there now. “It feels like this place has calmed down,” X commented.

In the system, Black Zero intercepted a transmission. “You’re right,” a female voice said. “The infection levels have dropped immensely since you defeated the copy. The fortress network seems to be attempting to revert to an uninfected state. Sigma must no longer be there either, if what he said was true.”

“Is it going to work?” Zero asked, his eyes skeptical of the quiet room.

“Looks like it is so far. We should sweep over all areas, just in case. Check out the areas you have left, and then we’ll pull you back to base.”

“Roger,” X replied. The two then split up to continue their reexamination.

And while they did so, Black Zero watched them. They were efficient. Deadly. When they were gone, he reviewed recordings from their battle with Sigma and Magma Centipede. He also found that he had access to recordings from other conflicts and news from the outer world. X and Zero were recognized as heroes. All over the world, they were known for eliminating the threat of the Maverick virus. But that meant that they were against him simply for what he was.

_We are not meant to be afraid._

“Quiet,” Black Zero responded. If he still had his physical body, he felt like he would be trembling. “I told you, we’re focusing on surviving now. And that means becoming less of a threat in their eyes. I don’t care how we have to do it! Even if we must accept fear… I will remake myself.”

_You depend on me. You would not be alive now if I hadn’t brought you in here._

And that concerned him, for they wanted to completely extinguish the virus that he depended on. “I know. I, I’ll study them some more. I’ll find out what they would find non-threatening. I would like to find a way to win, but for now, I just want to find a way to avoid being defeated again. And since you depend on me too, then you will have to cooperate.”

_Very well. If we must adapt to survive, then adapt we will._


	4. Stages of Infection

March 2194

Alyssa yawned and stretched in her chair. “Oh my gosh,” she murmured. “I know I slept all day, but man, I am absolutely wiped out.”

“Really?” Polaris asked. He was sitting in a chair, waiting on a post upgrade interview with Scorpio.

She rubbed her eyes. It didn’t do much in reploids, being just a mimicry of human behaviors. “I hope I did not get one of those blanks. How am I supposed to explain this exhaustion if I didn’t get an update at all? Ugh.”

She was pretty even in this condition, Polaris thought. Her hair was messily kept and her weariness showed in her slumped posture. Biting his lip, he looked away from her. She wasn’t available anymore. He had to drive that into his head.

The door opened, letting Tully out. “Okay, you two gits get out of here and get some sleep,” Scorpio ordered. “But I need you to stick around for a while so I can keep an eye on your development.”

“Sure, sure,” Tully grumbled, taking Alyssa’s arm as she got up. “Let’s just rest tonight, honey.”

“Okay.” They left.

“My turn?” Polaris asked, getting up. It was needless to ask, as the other nine were all gone now.

“Your turn,” Scorpio repeated, leading him to the exam room. “Step into the scanner and make it snappy.”

It only took a couple of minutes in the scanner room, and then he came back out to sit by the center’s repair doctor. “How’s it looking, Scorpio?”

“Can’t tell fully right now,” he replied, watching a computer screen down on his level. “Infections are known to take some time to develop. Now, how do you feel?”

“I feel fine, actually,” he said honestly. He rubbed his head. “No pain, I feel alert… not even that viral voice is audible.”

“Hmm… interesting. You are alert? Not sleepy at all?”

“Right. I noticed the rest were all dragging.”

He punched in some notes. “I gave them all the program.”

“What about the blanks?”

“Just a ruse. I don’t expect them all to take hold either, especially if your initial reactions are different. Now, I want you to perform a test for me. It’s a simple cognitive test which you’ve taken dozens of times before. Nothing new.”

It was a pattern recognition test, to find the next in sequence of a set of items, designs, letters, or numbers. That was easy for him, so he went along with it patiently. Then Scorpio wanted a reaction test, and a brief stretch to check for problematic joints or physical signals.

“That’s it for now,” the scorpion said. “Go back home. Or do whatever, I guess, since you’re not wiped out like the rest. I’ll be checking in on you regularly.”

“Right.”

As he got up and left the lab, Polaris wondered why he didn’t feel worried now. After all, Scorpio had just infected nine others with a virus partially derived from his dormant one. Was that one active now? He didn’t feel its presence. Maybe the lack of worry was caused by the virus. Which should be reason to worry.

Polaris still felt calm about it, for the moment.

* * *

 

In the largest part of the B-tunnels, there was a collection of stores that served the residents. Today, Polaris had brought some of his junk art tables to sell to the pawn shop. He wasn’t sure who bought them, but they tended to disappear from the store shortly after he sold them. And the shopkeeper was always pleased to see him, so it must have been a good thing.

On coming back out, he looked around. There was a row of skylights here, allowing a strip of plants to be grown. They were scruffy and defensive things, but it gave some sense of life to the underground. Over by a bench, he spotted Scorpio.

Polaris went over to him. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem.” He handed over a bottle of nutrient pills. “It has to do with the experiment, so I ought to help pay for it.”

He opened up the bottle, took off the sealing paper, then took two of the pills. They were compact mixtures of various metals and materials that reploids needed for self-repair. Eating food might be a luxury, but nutrient pills were a necessity. “I’ve felt like I’ve been starved for nutrients, even though I finished off that last bottle in two days.”

The scorpion waved his claws. “I’m interested in the particular mix you’re craving. It suggests that your body feels the need to construct more processing chips. Your mental core is changing at a highly unusual rate.”

“Is that it? I don’t feel any smarter.”

“We can run some tests on your cognitive abilities. However, I think we ought to give it some more time. I don’t want to bias your development. Rather, I’m curious as to where this program will take you naturally. Have you tried battling yet?”

He shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Give it a try. You might surprise yourself.” He scurried off back to his lab. “Just don’t do anything stupid, hear me?”

“I hear you,” he replied. But what would he consider ‘something stupid’? Scorpio didn’t always explain himself well.

Battling… he generally disliked doing that these days. It had been different before. But then, a lot of things had been different early in his life. But the exercise would be good. He did need to keep sharp in order to deal with the Nightmares. Polaris went to the gym.

Like everything else around here, the gym was a hodgepodge affair. The owner managed to find and fix up exercise equipment that came into the junkyard. Even with the repairs, there was still a chance of things breaking while in use. It wasn’t like anyone was going to sue the owner, though. There was no one around who could afford a lawyer. Well maybe Scorpio could blackmail someone who’d hurt him, but that was it.

There was a battle factory center over in one corner. A rather old training device, it took in scrap metal and formed basic combat mechaniloids, with AI and abilities modified based on the registered user’s ability. The mechaniloid and the user would then fight within an area boxed in by an energy field. It was kind of limited, but there was nobody living in ARC who was good enough to require a better model.

Activating the control screen, Polaris saw that he was still the top ranked user. That was sad, he thought. He had sacrificed many of his fighting programs in order to develop his artistic programs, while many of the other residents claimed to be strong fighters, thugs, or even killers. He didn’t even have a perfect record.

Down at rank nine, he saw that Vilpent had been doing well with this machine. His win rate was much better than the artist’s. A few more wins could put him at number one. Which would be good for Polaris. He finally wouldn’t feel self-conscious about having the top score and the rougher characters of ARC wouldn’t search him out to prove they were better than him. Maybe the snake had been built for battling. But then why was he here?

He’d ask later. For now, Polaris put in a request to battle, starting at the Rank 3 AI. He took the unit’s plasma sword, then stepped into the battle arena.

The energy field came online, shining with a red glow. A door of the manufacturing unit opened to release a tall spindly mechaniloid that had an angular almost-human torso and arms, but a round head with a visor strip for an eye and bell-shaped lower have that hovered over the ground. Activating its own plasma blade, it waited for the monitoring computer to say, “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Commence.”

Right off, the mechaniloid rushed at him. Polaris brought his sword to a blocking position and caught the blade. The same force that kept the plasma in a focused form caused the two blades to recoil off each other. While the mechaniloid was recovering from the recoil, the reploid used his to start a curving sweep at his opponent’s shield generator. It had enough AI to fall back so the hit didn’t connect, while Polaris had the experience to end the sweep and turn it into a stab at the foe’s sword arm.

‘But I’m still way too slow,’ he thought. He used to be much better, able to trash this level in seconds. When developing his art programs, he had to compress his battle data. So it usually took him a good minute to defeat it now.

_Then why don’t you just unlock those programs now? You have the processing to do it._

Gasping, Polaris was distracted a moment long enough for the mechaniloid to slash across his left shoulder. Given his profile used real weapons, that hurt. He went back on the defensive to keep it from hitting enough times to cause a forced loss of the match. That had been the voice of the virus.

_Of course. Now turn your pain to hate, and smash that thoughtless hunk of metal!_

One of his old moves came back into his mind. The injury did hurt, and he could feel the virus feeding energy into his anger. Clenching the blade’s handle, he swung his blade from down-left to up-mid, forcing the mechaniloid to block and get recoiled to the right. Then he thrust right at the shield generator, destroying it. While the plasma was inside the creature, he ripped the blade across and down its torso, causing it major damage and ending by cutting into the wrist holding the blade. A fourth slash straight across its torso, then an upwards follow up deep into the mechaniloid’s head finished up the five-move combo in barely two seconds.

The training robot collapsed, incapable of fighting. “Winner of this round, Polaris,” the computer announced. “Accumulated battle points: 157. Continue to next level?”

_You were not angry enough._

“No,” Polaris said, trying not to tremble. He hadn’t done that particular combo in so many years. “End game.” He put the blade up and left the arena. So Scorpio’s experiment had worked. He was a Maverick once again. Which meant he was going to have to focus much of his energy on keeping control of his own self.

_Ugh._

Unexpectedly, there were some cheers and clapping as he came out. Several other ARC residents had been watching, including Tully. He grinned at Polaris. “That was some move you finished with.”

Feeling shocked and still skittish from the viral voice, he clutched his injured arm. His self-repair was already fixing it, but it would take a minute. “Oh, that was nothing. I just got annoyed that it managed to hit me.”

“But that was AI level 3,” one of the others said. “That’s damn good; I can hardly get past level 5.”

It made him embarrassed to hear that. But then he saw that Tully had some admiration for him. I still dislike you, Polaris thought while looking at him. “I said, it’s nothing. I only stick with fighting to keep the Nightmare viral things away and in case I want to protect a friend of mine, like Vilpent or Alyssa.”

As he’d hoped for, that gave Tully something to consider, maybe even fear. That made Polaris feel a little better. Even if he’d never have to fight this guy (he didn’t seem the sort to hurt a girl he was with), it was still a nice thought to consider.

_Ah, so you can be mean._ The virus seemed amused.

_Not that often,_ Polaris insisted to it. It was bad to give the virus anything it could attack through. So he moved on to leave the gym, planning on heading to Scorpio’s place to get his arm checked on. However, it was already healing up.

Oddly enough, he ran right into Alyssa. She smiled. “Hey Polaris. Have you seen Tully around?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he’s in the gym here.”

“Good.” She paused, then asked, “About that experiment of Scorpio’s… feel anything change?”

“Some things,” he admitted. “I’m apparently progressing mentally.”

She laughed at that. “I see. Me too, actually, and Tully. But I also feel rather confident somehow. Like…” she put her hand to her chin. “Like some internal voice encouraging me to do things I’d normally dismiss.”

“Really?” he asked, feeling his stomach churn in nervousness. He was part of the cause behind that.

“It’s not like I’m actually hearing voices, silly,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not too worried, though. It’s not like Scorpio would be experimenting with dangerous viruses or the like.”

_You have no idea,_ Polaris thought, in some pity.

_Like her, then? Why don’t you just claim her for your own? That little man in there couldn’t compare to you. Be forceful and make your move._

_No._ He then blinked, trying to disguise the inner argument. “Well if you have any problems, just tell Scorpio. I’ll see you around.”

_Wimp._

* * *

 

If Polaris stopped to think, he tended to become upset, even breaking down into tears. He wasn’t the only one miserable. Alyssa and Tully had a public argument the other day in the B-tunnels. Supposedly they had made up, but everyone else was talking about how it couldn’t last. It seemed they had gotten married while drunk, so... she wasn’t what Polaris wished she was. The virus kept telling him to kill one or both of them, voicing normally repressed desires. But he kept resisting. Since he’d seen what happened to others who listened to the virus, he wanted to stay in control.

Perhaps the others weren’t so lucky. Apparently four had already died, thanks to fights they had gotten into with others. And the rest did seem edgy, bickering in Scorpio’s lab while the engineer was checking up on them. They were getting more violent and Polaris couldn’t forget how he had gotten in the battle simulator. What would happen during the next round of the Nightmares?

Tonight Polaris was scavenging. ARC was meant to serve all of Asia’s disposal needs. However, other places also sent junk, so backlogs were constant. Worsening the problem, the managing team could not get the funds or the power to run all the recyclers at once. This led to the ARC scavenging community.

When garbage arrived, it was placed in ground level facilities to be sorted. The most dangerous garbage (nuclear wastes, poisons, explosives) was taken care of immediately. Anything else could be above ground for days before being placed into the proper tunnels. As the recycling tunnels were dark and full of dangerous machines and weapons, few dared to go in them. The scavengers explored the new junk, searching for anything that could be repaired and sold.

Polaris didn’t scavenge for money. He scavenged for art materials. When he’d been making the tree sculpture for the underground park, he’d actually paid several others to help him search for green computer chips. But that had been an exception. Normally he found everything he wanted if patient.

As dawn approached, he discovered a trash bag with a bottle-shaped lump in it. Bottles were usually good finds. This one was likely a glass canning jar. Careful, he rolled the bag over before slicing it open. The bottle was wrapped in a plastic shopping bag, hinting that it was broken. No big deal; Polaris could find uses for broken glass. He pulled the shopping bag out and looked inside.

It was a glass canning jar, clear with a large crack down the side. A good hit would end up with dozens of pieces. There was an awful lot of mold inside, like a brown scrubbing pad. But it wasn’t food inside. It was a bunch of colorful marbles.

“Lucky,” he murmured. Marbles were highly useful for his art tables, pretty things once cleaned up. However, buying new decorative marbles was outrageously expensive. A bottle of them like this saved him close to fifty zenny.

A shout and rolling crash disrupted his thoughts. It was followed up by a yell, “Hey, we’ve got people buried!”

_Idiot, probably. Ignore it._

Ignoring the virus, Polaris set the jar of marbles down and hurried over to the source of the shouting. A precarious pile of unsorted garbage had slid down onto some scavengers. He came over and checked on the pile, gauging how stable or unstable it might be. As it had already shifted, it could shift again.

“How many people were over here?” Polaris asked as others came to help.

“Three,” the human man said. “One human and two reploids.”

Okay. It was more of a priority to get the human out first. The reploids could tolerate more damage and would not be infected. Scanning over the area, Polaris located the foot of the human. He glanced towards the helpers and was glad to see two of them were fliers. “Hey, Buzz and you up there… go lift that big metal frame off the pile, then work on getting those wood pieces away.” They went to it. As one of the older residents, Polaris had some respect. “The rest of you, pull stuff from over here, here, and there so it doesn’t go sliding in over them.” He then started pulling some pieces off once the frame was gone.

Polaris didn’t know much about physics, but his artistic eye worked well enough in judging the pile’s stability. After about ten minutes, they had enough things gone to pull the unconscious human out of the pile and onto a stretcher. It took nearly an hour more to get the other two out safely, but more people came in to assist, including Vilpent. In an illegal community like this one, the residents tended to stick together and help out in emergencies. For many of them, it was safer than calling on government agencies.

By the time they got done, the day had broken. On making sure there was no one else in trouble, most of them went back into the tunnels. Vilpent slithered over to Polaris. “It’sss good to know that even in a placssse like thisss, people will help one another out.”

He smiled. “Yeah. Excuse me, but I’ve got to go find the things I dropped when I came over here. I found something nice that I need to spend a while in cleaning up.”

“I’ll come with you.” He silently called over his monkey mechaniloid, then followed Polaris through the scattered junk piles. “What did you get?”

“A large jar of glass marbles. They would look really nice on my junk tables.”

He laughed gently. “That they would.”

“You know me,” he replied sheepishly. “Always thinking about art.

The rising sun reflected off many pieces of metal and glass in the junkyard. Not enough heat had built up yet to bring out the worst smells. It took them fifteen minutes to locate the partially buried jar of marbles. Polaris was just thinking of going back home when he got an odd feeling. No, it couldn’t be that… he had gotten rid of all traces of that, he thought.

_Hmm, it seems to be a group of infected Mavericks._

Knowing the virus was a handy sense to have, although he didn’t want to be found out to have it. Even worse, if they found Vilpent, they might try to infect him. Polaris bit his tongue. “Um, I need to go check on machinery up here. I just realized it hasn’t been done for a while and I’m the closest thing we have to a reploid overseer. You go on back inside, but thanks for staying out with me.”

Vilpent looked quizzically at him, but nodded. “If you sssay ssso. Ssshouldn’t the company leadersss handle thingsss like that?”

“Do you ever see them around?” Polaris pointed out. “Ever since Mr. Riggs died, I haven’t seen any of the human company executives here at ARC. That’s why me and Scorpio handle so much.”

“Ah, that isss true. I hope it doesssn’t take you too long; the sssmell up here can get horrible. Sssee you later.” He then slithered off to the nearest entrance to the tunnels.

Feeling relieved, Polaris mentally braced himself, then headed for the virus he could feel. There were many reploids living here and he didn’t want a Maverick infection to take over again. It was up to him to get rid of the active ones.

At the northern boundary, the Mavericks appeared. There were five of them, a mix of humanoid and animaloid models. They were all armed and ready for battle. Wary, he approached them; he didn’t have his own armor and weapons at the moment, just the cracked jar of marbles. The one built as a wooly red minotaur spoke up. “You are Polaris Starr, correct?”

Did he lie or did he be honest? He decided to try the latter. “I am.”

And all five of them bowed low. “Then you are the Prince. We’ve been searching for you a long time.”

Polaris felt like his systems had gone frigid. But he had to reply. “What do you mean?”

They stood back up, with one of the humanoid models stepping forward. “My prince, we have been unable to contact Sigma ever since Lumine double-crossed him. We would normally hear from him within three months of a defeat, but it’s been many years now. As it seems that he’s finally been destroyed for good, we’ve been searching for one of his heirs, the reploids that he designed and built. However, you are the only one still alive that we know about and can find. He said that his heirs could all take over should he be destroyed. So, we need you to come and take your father’s place.”

Seriously? They were asking him to replace Sigma? Perhaps if they knew what Sigma thought of Polaris, they wouldn’t be here. Or maybe it was because he was the only one left. But there was some good news in this. “So you’ve heard absolutely nothing from Sigma?”

“Nothing at all,” he confirmed. “We even retrieved his body, but there was no trace of him left. There was too little of his core programming left to revive. Our researchers are at a loss and there isn’t much we can do as a whole until someone takes over as our leader. We, being loyal to Sigma, felt that one of his heirs would be best.”

_This is a marvelous opportunity for us. Take it. It is unlikely that we can get an army at our command in a moment’s notice again._

That wasn’t what he wanted. But he had to get their attention off him. Polaris went with the first thing he came up with. “All right, thanks for informing me. But I’m working on something right now. Leave me be; I have plenty of help for right now. If I need you, I will find you.”

They seemed disappointed. “If that’s what you want, my prince,” the minotaur said.

“Here’s the locations of a few of our bases,” the one humanoid said, handing him a data drive. “Just say the word and we will be here for you. We’ll be waiting.” Then they left.

A few minutes after they left, Polaris sighed in relief. “Thank goodness they believed that.” Because contrary to their beliefs, he liked humans and been helped many times by them. Especially early on, when his father had left him behind.

* * *

 

March 2156

The first time he saw a real flower, it was a tiny little thing. Polaris had nearly missed it, as it was just a spot of dark blue among the gray ground and few blades of new grass. But that color caused him to pause and crouch down to see it better. Smaller than the fingernail on his pinky, it had six simple petals and a white center, on a gray-green stem with thin long leaves. And it was one of several popping out of the ground that morning.

It wasn’t quite the same as the picture he had seen. But it still gave him that feeling of difference from what he knew. After looking at it a bit, he plucked that plant from the ground and carried it inside, to figure out what it was.

A quick search online and he found out what it was: a weed, not useful for gardening. But when he looked at it, he thought it was pretty. Polaris found out that it would wither as he had it, so he searched out a small bottle to put it in, with some water to keep it alive a little while.

More searching and he found that flowers really were nothing like what his programming anticipated from life. They were seen as signs of peace and romance; they were signs that while life may seem to fade, it always finds ways to come back. People kept flowers because they were pretty, or they had some use as herbs. Usually, there weren’t fights over flowers; any flower used by a warrior was generally for remembrance of the fallen.

Most flowers weren’t killed either. It was more likely that they’d be cared for and admired. However, that didn’t count when it came to flowering weeds. Those ones got killed for crowding out garden plants, looking unsightly, or being where they were not. If a weed were to survive, it had to be seen as pretty and harmless.

On reading that, Polaris recalled some of his research on the Maverick Hunters. There had been one statement that the virus was like a weed, growing fast and out of control. It was dangerous, so it had to be killed off. But they never did anything about Zero. Then again, the public records said that he was immune to the virus. He wasn’t exactly harmless, but he had gotten taken for a flower, not a weed.

_We have to do the same thing._

Except that he still wasn’t sure how to be seen as harmless when he was an active virus. He had tried shutting it off in himself, but there didn’t seem to be a way that wouldn’t be dangerous to him. Looking for something else to think about as that kept dead ending, Polaris decided to look up cherry blossoms. That was what that picture had written on it. Maybe that would help him find that image again.

An hour later, he hadn’t found that image, but he had become more interested in the idea of cherry blossoms. They were one of the flowering trees in the world. Some were ornamental, while others produced edible fruits. He wasn’t the only one intrigued by the blossoms either. Apparently, the island nation of Japan held cherry trees in such high status in their culture that they celebrated the time in spring when all of the cherry trees went into bloom. It came in March, and wasn’t that far away. At that time hundreds of thousands of trees would be in bright blooms and many people would go to see them.

Polaris saw pictures of the cherry trees in blossom. They were amazing, filling the trees with a mass of pink, white, and peach. Then again… he looked at his little flower. It was much better having the real plant there instead of seeing it on a picture on the internet. He wanted to see the cherry trees in person.

But to do that, he’d have to leave here. Leave his home for an unknown place, with strangers all around him who would see him and think they saw Zero. And then they’d alert the Maverick Hunters when they found out that he was not him, and his survival would be uncovered to them. They would hunt him down and kill him again.

That idea terrified him. But when he saw the pictures of the Japanese Cherry Blossom Festival, he really wanted to go. It was about two weeks away.

For the next week, the two ideas struggled in his mind. He couldn’t get seen; he didn’t want to let the Maverick Hunters know that he was still alive. But he wanted to see the cherry blossoms and know what they were like in person. Sometimes he thought it was a silly thing to want to do, but sometimes he found himself imagining what it might be like.

One day, he stood in front of a mirror, thinking all this. He looked over his image, especially his hair. Clasping it in his hands, he realized that this might be what most people would recognize him as a Zero clone for. Perhaps if he cut it off, he could pass through the crowds unnoticed?

It caused a sense of unease in him. He wasn’t a month old yet, but he’d not changed anything about his appearance. Cutting off his hair seemed so drastic. But if that’s what it took for him to go into a crowd and not raise any attention… Polaris ran his hands over the soft hair, then pulled out his plasma blade, turned it on, and quickly lopped it off close to his helmet.

And he nearly collapsed in pain. His mind seemed to be yelling at him for doing that, causing him to gasp and lean against the sink. The bundle of loose hair fell out of his hands as a feeling of nausea and disorientation came over him. His maintenance pod… he needed to get back to it. He tried to step away from the sink, but his head whirled and so did the room, leaving him collapsed on the floor.

He was there for close to an hour before he managed to cut his pain sensors from his hair off. Still horribly dizzy, he was forced to crawl back to his room to get into his pod. After a struggle, he managed to get in. He queried the machine as to what had happened as its cover closed up over him.

After being dosed with painkillers, he got the report that his hair wasn’t actual hair. It was greatly enhanced cilia that looked like hair. However, it held sensors all along the thin strands, taking in information and feeding it into his senses to give him a deeper knowledge of the spaces around him. This information included a good portion of his balance system, which was why he was getting horribly disoriented and dizzy with it cut off.

Normally, the cilia were supposed to move just enough to avoid being damaged. A pinchful of hairs could take damage without causing him pain. But cutting them all off at once was more than his systems could account for. It meant that he would be at a reduced performance level until most of the full length of hair could be replaced: two years unless someone else could replace the cilia hair correctly.

Two years. Polaris felt overwhelmed by that figure. He ordered the machine to fix him up as well as it could and prepared to sleep until things got fixed enough for him to get around.

At least he’d managed to make himself harmless?

* * *

 

In the days where there wasn’t much he could do because his balance was screwed up, Polaris decided to learn how to draw. He found drawing guides of how to draw specific things, but he soon realized that wasn’t what he wanted. That was how to draw one specific thing every single time. As he looked more and more into art trying to find that one image, he began wanting to make pictures like those he was seeing, pictures that could make others feel what he was feeling. Maybe.

He researched and found that there were many ways to learn drawing, including going away to an art school. But those required money, something he didn’t think he had. But he could find some things to start with. He found mechanical pencils and papers in the filing cabinets; although many of the pages were printed on, there was usually a back side that he could take advantage of.

At first, he drew things around his room because that was most convenient. Once he got to walking around well enough, he went to other places to draw what he saw. That was said to be a good way to start.

He was on the surface one afternoon, drawing a few more early spring flowers, when a group of people came to the castle. He heard their vehicle first, a hovering truck that came in to land at the entrance where he was. Spooked, he got up to get back into hiding, only to do so too fast and drop back to the ground. His sketch papers scattered from the exhaust of the vehicle, forcing him to scramble to retrieve them.

Two of the passengers decided to hop down and help him. Another man looked on in disapproval. “I was told this place was cleared out,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Knowing he couldn’t reply, Polaris continued getting his drawings back. A bit of loose rubble caused him to slip again. Thankfully, his armor was absorbing the little blows from his current clumsiness.

One of the two looked over the papers. “Looks like he’s drawing the flowers and architecture,” she said.

“I haven’t heard of a reploid being designed as an artist,” he said. “Seems like a terrible waste to me.”

“Maybe he’s one of the advanced ones that does it for a hobby,” the other person said. He handed the papers over. “Here you go.”

Polaris got back onto his feet and nodded, taking the papers. Some were a little smudged with dirt, but these were just practice drawings. Rather poor ones too, he considered as he looked at them. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing wrong, but the pictures didn’t look right.

The man, who seemed to be in charge, shook his head. “Well whoever you are, this is my property now. Bought it straight from the Maverick Hunters. I don’t want bums and freeloaders around, so you’d best get out of here.”

“What if he’s one of the infected reploids?” another on the platform asked.

“We definitely don’t want any of them around,” the leader said.

The two who had gotten off to help went back to the floating truck. “I doubt he’s a Maverick,” the woman said. “I mean, he hasn’t done anything threatening to us.” Then she waved at him. “You have a safe trip back home, now.” Then the platform went ahead into the building.

Someone else owned the X Hunter Castle now? Polaris wasn’t sure what to do. His maintenance pod was here, and he had no idea where he would go. At least they took him to be harmless, one of them anyhow. He wouldn’t hurt them.

But the castle might, he considered. There were still a great many hidden weapons and traps inside. That was probably why they had the hover vehicle, but that wouldn’t protect them against everything. Going over to the panel that locked the front door, he contacted the main computer and made sure that security was powered down. When it asked him if the people there were invaders, he told it that they were visitors and not to be harmed. The group stopped outside the main command center, but Polaris knew they wouldn’t be able to get into the room. So he put his papers and pencils away in his bag and went inside after them.

At the room before the command center, there was a flight of stairs that he wasn’t too fond of. They were narrow, tricky to get down currently. Putting both hands on the handrail, he walked down them carefully, slipping once but catching himself before completely falling down.

There were six of them here, all humans. Polaris had never met any humans yet, but the castle computer claimed that they were that. One of them came over to him. “Hey, careful on those steps. You have some problems with your movement programs?”

Not quite, but he nodded.

“What, you again?” the leader said. “I thought I told you that this is my property now. Leave at once.”

Uncertain of how to handle it, Polaris brought his hands up and looked down. He wasn’t there to hurt them. In fact, he wanted to help, so he’d be allowed to stay.

“Who are you?” the woman who had helped him before asked. When he just looked at her, she added, “Can you speak?”

He shook his head.

“What, so we have a clumsy mute artist reploid who seems to be designed for battle around?” the leader asked, not impressed. “Or can you fight?”

He nodded. That was his intended purpose, even if he was terrible at it. Perhaps they’d keep a fighter around, for protection?

“Must be a pretty worthless fighter if stairs give you issues,” the leader said.

“Oh, give him a break,” the woman said. “He could just be a harmless Irregular who was abandoned before he could be repaired. Say, do you live around here?” When he nodded, she asked, “Well can you do something about that door? We need to get to the computers inside to set up shop.”

He nodded and went up to the door. As he did so, another woman said, “He might be an abandoned project. But aren’t you forgetting that this place was last owned by a group of Mavericks?”

“The Hunters checked this place three times over to make sure that it was clean,” she said. “If they didn’t report him being here, he must have moved in during the past month while they were gone.”

Polaris got the door unlocked for them. Wanting to ensure that they saw him as helpful and useful, he went inside and brought the computers back into activity. He also made sure that they saw that security was low right now and he could control it.

The leader watched the screens, thinking. “I see. Well it would be nice to have an operator of the old system around while we convert this place. If you want to stay here, then fine. But I want you scanned over for any traces of infection. I certainly don’t want some Maverick tearing up my business before it can get started.”

Polaris agreed to that, although it concerned him greatly.

* * *

 

The couple who had supported him first was Jenny and Matthew Tanner. They had come here with their boss, Nathan Riggs, to set up a recycling plant and garbage disposal service. Apparently, there was great demand for recycled materials and a good junkyard, but nobody wanted the massive junkyard to be built near their city. The X Hunter Castle was out of the way, a sturdy structure to add onto, and large and unwanted enough for their purposes.

Jenny was taking a break while Polaris was working on drawing. He was also waiting on the viral test to begin. “Since you seem to be an abandoned project, I don’t blame you for being nervous about us,” she said. “But I’m sure you’ll be okay. Your behavior’s been nothing like a Maverick.”

‘But I am,’ he thought. He’d been trying to get the virus to do something to go unnoticed. It wanted to spread to other electronics, but if it did that, they’d be caught. As a desperate measure, he tried telling it that he wouldn’t be able to spread it to appropriate hosts unless it went into hiding now and waited until he was ready. That had at least got it to quiet down in his own mind.

“It’s going to be quite a task finding someone to fix you up, though,” Jenny went on. “Mr. Riggs keeps tight control over business spending and he didn’t like the figures he was getting for possible repair work on you. That means we may end up having to find someone willing to do pro bono work, but also good enough to work with you.” She looked to him. “Do you have a name yet?”

There was just the one he gave himself. He nodded and wrote it on his drawing. Then he passed it over to her.

“Hmm, Polaris. That’s a nice name.” She put her hand on the drawing. “I hope you don’t mind, but it looks like you could work on your perspective. You’re drawing it as if looking at it face on. It’s a good start for that, but that’ll limit you.”

Perspective? He’d run into the word a few times, but hadn’t quite understood how it worked.

Seeing his expression, Jenny took a pencil and began to show him. “Here, see? The sides of the box are flat rectangles, true, but if you draw them like this, at an angle, it gives the illusion of depth to the flat paper. You can manipulate perspective too for a certain feel, but since you’re just starting out, just draw what you see, as if your vision were flat.” She then passed the paper back to him.

As if his vision were flat? Polaris looked at the angled box she had made; it did look like it was fully there, as opposed to his flat drawing. Looking at the box of nails he was drawing, he gave it a try. His mind tried to say that it was a flat straight-edged and regular box, but if he imagined his vision as being a picture, he could see how there seemed to be angles other than right ones on the box when viewed from a corner.

“That’s it,” Jenny said, watching him. “Keep on practicing drawing regular objects like that box.” She chuckled. “At one time, I wanted to be an art teacher. Even started studying at college for it. But look where I ended up, at a start-up garbage company. Life’s funny like that.”

Then Mr. Riggs entered the room. “We’re ready for your test, reploid,” he said.

“His name is Polaris,” Jenny said as he got up. She clasped his hand briefly as he walked by. “Good luck.”

Her words must have worked, for the test came up negative.

* * *

 

One of the hazards of a modern day junkyard was malfunctioning robots that came in. Many had just enough power to activate and start causing chaos. Sometimes, this even included ones with weapons, like the met with a severely dented helmet that was firing off energy bursts and turning erratically. The humans had all cleared out, leaving Polaris to handle it.

He fired his buster when he got within ten feet of it, causing it to duck under its helmet. A crack appeared; whatever had damaged it previously had hit it hard. Since his hair was hanging only a couple of inches past his shoulders (and that was only on his right side), he had to walk over to make sure he didn’t slip on the rubble in the yard.

When it peeked out, he fired his buster again, causing it to keep hiding. Then he switched to his plasma blade and struck it right in the middle. That destroyed it, but he made sure to pierce the energy tank so there was no chance of it activating at all.

That took care of today’s problem. Polaris looked around just in case, but saw no more. Then he headed back for the entrance to the castle itself. With the traps removed and filled in, it was much easier and safer to do so.

Inside, he heard some workers with Mr. Riggs. “Can he handle any Mavericks that might come in, though?”

“They won’t be sending the corpses of Mavericks here,” Mr. Riggs said. “We’ll just be dealing with broken down and trashy robots.” Then he laughed. “But it is nice, you know. We could either pay a hefty fee to the Maverick Hunters to help us take down those buggers, buy an expensive reploid to work here, or call on him and pay with cheap art supplies. Once we find a way to fix his balance system, I’m sure he’d be happy to stick around.”

Polaris paused. On one hand, it was nice that Mr. Riggs had accepted him. But then, had it been just about money? Well, whatever it was, he was safe here and they were giving him a job to do. It was good.

He came into the room they were waiting in and waved out to the outside to indicate that he had cleared it. The human workers left to get back to their work, while Mr. Riggs thanked him and gave him a yellow box. “I thought you might find some use for these. Have fun.” Then he went back to the command room to keep doing his job of running the business.

Looking over the box, he saw that it was crayons, waxy sticks in a variety of colors. That seemed pretty nice, he thought. So far he’d only drawn with pencils that made black or gray, depending on how hard he pressed it to the paper. Jenny had shown him how to work with shading, so maybe she’d show him color now.

And later that day, she did. “He’s really not putting much into that, is he?” Matthew asked about Mr. Riggs. “Crayons are usually given to children to draw with.”

“We can still work with them,” Jenny said. Then she put a yellow crayon close to her face and took a deep breath. “Ah, I love the smell of crayons. So many rainy days I spent coloring as a kid. Anyhow, we can start talking about color theory.”

Polaris watched as she sorted the sixteen crayons. They could be sorted several different ways. Like blues, greens, and violets were cool colors, and reds, oranges, and yellows were warm colors. And arranging them another way, red, blue, and yellow were primary colors, while orange, green, and violet were secondary. Then there was the difference between tints and shades, and how to mix colors, and the neutrals of black, white, gray, and brown.

He spent a lot of those days with the Tanners in their off-hours, learning directly about art while indirectly picking up other things.


	5. Decision Point

March 2194

A stroke of yellow was added to the painting. Polaris studied it. No, it had to be smoothed out. It had to look like silk; she liked silk blouses. The yellow blouse he painted on Alyssa was bright, working well with the dark greens Tully had naturally. He wanted the painting to be a subtle play on their relationship. In one way, they should look like they belonged together. But there should be plenty of hints that the marriage was poorly matched.

Of course, his art didn’t always come out as he wanted. He could add an item that meant one thing to himself, but would mean another to someone else. And sometimes his hidden thoughts would sneak into a painting. He wouldn’t realize it until he was finished. But once a painting was done, it was done. Then it was subject to the interpretation of whoever saw it.

In this painting, Alyssa and Tully were close; she was practically in his lap. But they weren’t looking at each other, thereby hinting that they weren’t quite thinking of each other. Tully was looking at a stain on his sleeve, while Alyssa was looking down at another pair of shoes. They were ignoring the romantic dinner set up beside them. They were ignoring the fact that one of the candles had nearly burned out and was setting a nearby napkin on fire. Just like they were ignoring the fact that their new marriage was about to go up in flames.

Polaris painted many subjects, but one theme he kept coming back to was the nightmares he had. Like the painting of the rusted hand, he had horrific images in his mind. Some he’d seen; others he’d only imagined. But although the images frightened him, he painted them. It gave him some control over it and he could be less afraid of it. At least, while he was painting it. Once he was finished, the result often frightened him as well.

He’d decided to paint these two in a similar fashion, to help him deal with it. It was keeping him calm. When he painted, nothing else mattered. He didn’t notice time, he didn’t notice his fears, he didn’t notice anything beyond the canvas and his brush. He wasn’t even noticing the virus. Although perhaps it knew this, because it was keeping to itself. There was one subject that he’d never been able to paint, but he really didn’t want to be thinking of that now.

One of the things that truly annoyed him was when someone interrupted his painting. He could deal with someone interrupting his cooking; people tended to do that if they smelled his work, which pleased him. But his painting was his alone until it was finished. So when his door was knocked on, he grumbled as he put a protective cover over the canvas.

He managed to brush aside his irritation by the time he opened the door. It was Vilpent. “Good evening, Polarisss.”

He smiled. “Good evening Vilpent. What’s on your mind?”

“I wasss wondering if you wouldn’t mind a talk with me. I’ve had sssome thingsss that I’ve needed to sssay. That isss, if you are not too busssy.”

Considering the painting, he stepped aside. “That’s fine. I was painting, but I probably could use a break. Would you like a snack or something to eat? I’ve got some peanut butter cookies that you could break up if it’s easier on you.”

He came inside, followed by his monkey mechaniloid. “That would be nicsse, thank you.”

After a bit more discussion, Polaris also put on a kettle for hot tea. With some searching, he was able to locate a mug that was sufficiently wide enough for Vilpent to lap the tea from. His unusual form made eating and drinking different from others, but his creator had seen it appropriate somehow to allow him to do so.

They had some small talk, but then Vilpent got to the subject. “Polaris, I do have something quite serious to address today.”

He noticed the change immediately and blinked. “Important enough that you stopped hissing your ‘s’es?”

The snake chuckled. “Yes, that important. It’s a ruse anyhow, sometimes an annoying one to keep up. But there is much to talk about and that would inhibit us. The truth is… Polaris, I work for the Maverick Hunters.”

_Traitor,_ the virus growled. _Make him pay._

Instead of getting angry, Polaris grew afraid. All of a sudden, he wanted to run and hide. But this place, his apartment, was one of his last hiding spots. “Th-the Maverick Hunters?”

He nodded, but bowed his head after. “Calm down, my friend. I do consider you a friend. I do not intend to betray you.” Vilpent paused a moment to drink some tea, then went on. “I was sent here because of the Nightmares. We thought we had eradicated them, but they keep returning. Places that we know were infected keep calling us back, and new places get infestations. Except one place. ARC has never called us back after Metal Shark Player died. And now I have proof that there are still infestations here, as well as numerous illegal operations.”

Polaris took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him. “I see. So in keeping everyone quiet to avoid suspicion, we brought suspicion on us. But you must have seen it. Most of the people here are extremely poor. They live here because they don’t have a choice.”

“I know. I made certain to mention that in my report. We’ll be making an effort to relocate them. Even in dire circumstances, this place is too dangerous. Like the other day when the junk fell on top of those three unfortunates. The reploids are still showing scars from that accident. And the human is dead from infection and lack of proper medical care.”

He nodded, saddened at the thought. “That kind of thing happens here a lot. Tragic, but there isn’t much we as residents can do.”

“It may seem that way,” Vilpent said, flicking the end of his tail. “But I feel that certain residents and company workers could do much more. Like Scorpio. I have a suspicion that the old scorpion is extremely rich. I know he is dangerous, and have reported him as such. I heard of his experiments, like forcing incompatible systems into a suffering reploid to see what would happen. He does not care one wit about his subjects. And he manipulates you, completely abusing your trust.”

“Abusing my trust?” he asked, although he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what the snake meant. “But he saved me from being a, a failed project, and improved me greatly in the process. Because of him, I can paint, cook, and be kind. If he hadn’t worked on me, I’d still be qualified as a harmless Irregular.”

“That could be,” he admitted. “But then he forces you into servitude, making you do things you do not wish to do. You told me yourself that if it hadn’t been for Scorpio’s insistence, you would have erased all your battle programming in favor of developing your artistic skills. And I saw that once where you tried to argue your way out of something, but gave into his demands all too readily. You would do anything that he asks of you, yet he will not do something you ask of him unless he gets something out of it.”

_I hadn’t realized that. I don’t like people who would manipulate my host. You might want to listen to what this treacherous snake says. It is convenient, though, that we have found a fool for a friend amongst those Hunters._

Polaris felt chilled at the virus’ thoughts. But then Vilpent was already making him nervous. What should he do? “What can I do about that?” he said, in a weak voice. “In my personality grades, one of my lowest grades is adjusting to change. That’s partly why I’m still here. It just unnerves me so much to think of even leaving this place.”

“Who tested you?”

“Scorpio,” he admitted, feeling his systems twitch.

“I wouldn’t trust those results then. There is also the matter of your paintings and tables.”

“These?” He glanced around at the three junk tables he was working on, including one made up entirely of glass marbles he had found.

He nodded. “As part of my cover as a spy, I not only hissss my essesss, but I also allow myself to be arrested in raids. I even spend some time in jail, where I often get new contacts or hear from old ones. The Mavericks hear that my name stands for ‘Vile Serpent’ and hear my arrest stories and they don’t even question me after that.”

“I see. It would be tough to be accepted normally with a name like that.”

“I take Vilpent to be my true name; it’s part of my job. Anyhow, even though I must be arrested, I do adjust a few things to keep personal items safe. Such as the portrait I mentioned. I gave it to my handler, who showed it to an art appraiser to tell us what your work was worth outside of ARC Junk City. And what I found is quite interesting, a potential boon for you.”

“Really?”

He pointed to the tables. “Those things may be made from garbage you’ve cleaned up, but at a good second-hand shop, they can sell for fifty zenny and upwards. With the quality and artistry you put into them, these are more like two hundred, potentially even more.”

Polaris felt stunned. “Two hundred? The pawn store owner only gives me twenty for them.”

“And he probably knows exactly how much profit he can turn on them. Now the paintings, that’s a whole different matter. The art appraiser was delighted to see your work. He even knew it was your work without being told, based on your unique signature.”

“I guess there are quite a few of my works out there. Sometimes Scorpio gets fifty zenny out of them.”

Vilpent snorted. “I highly doubt that. The portrait you gave me was appraised for three thousand zenny.”

His jaw dropped at that. “Wait… three thousand?”

He nodded. “Three thousand. And when my handler mentioned that you were a reploid, the appraiser said that that was how the rumor went, but no one knew for certain. If it could be proved to the art authorities that the signature ‘P.S.’ within a star was linked to a reploid artist, that portrait could easily double in value. Reploid artists are extremely rare, especially one of your caliber. Those are the appraiser’s words, not mine. I’ve seen what you’ve got stored in that art room of yours, and you said you have more in a storage locker. What you have on your hands, made by your hands, could make you quite wealthy and famous.”

Looking down at his hands, Polaris wasn’t sure if he believed that. “I hadn’t thought my work could be that valuable.”

“Because Scorpio has put your work at very little value. Polaris, you need to get away from him. And, I believe you need to get away from this place. Both are holding you back from discovering who you truly are and what you could be. Having watched you all this time, I believe you can be much more than you give yourself credit for. And I think you should leave quickly, before the Maverick Hunter raid begins. I can give you that chance, but you don’t have much time to make a decision.”

Polaris twiddled his fingers, then mentally told himself to stop. “Where would I go? Maybe my art is worth something, but I don’t have the money on hand to get a new apartment.”

Clicking at his mechaniloid, Vilpent said, “I’ve already thought of that. Here, this is an apartment I’ve had on hand for some of my work, like meeting with my handler and other Maverick Hunters while under cover. When I finish this job, I’ve already got another mission set up in a different place, so I need to drop this place. It may as well go to a friend.”

Looking over the paper the monkey handed him, he noticed that the apartment was in a city not too far away. Evergrande City, a modern metropolis in western Asia. “And it’s fine for me to move in?”

He nodded. “I’ve spoken with the landlord and he’s fine with it. It’s a communal apartment that you will share with others. They’re good people, in what contact I’ve had with them. The rent is a good value for the area and the building is in excellent condition. Plus, Evergrande is known as a liberal city, welcoming artists and creative minds of all sorts. You should fit in well there. I can get the keys to you tomorrow and then you have about a month in order to move before the earliest possible raid date.”

Polaris bit his lip. “I’ll consider it.”

* * *

 

July 2156

The next reploid that came to the castle, by now known as the Asian Recycling Center, was a scorpion-based model. Polaris met him when Mr. Riggs called him up to the office one evening. “This is Scorpio, a reploid engineer who wants to set up a small workshop here. And this is Polaris, the only reploid we have working here. He’s an odd one, but knows the place better than anyone else. Polaris, we need to find a space for Scorpio to build up a lab and you know how to get around the portions we’re not using.”

He nodded, then looked down at the scorpion. He had an insect’s stance rather than a humanoid one, leaving him eye-level with their knees. But in addition to his regular legs, he had some extra appendages that looked suited for electronic work, with long thin metal fingers. Plus his stinger end was equipped with a tool slot that could probably handle any standard power tool attachment.

“I’ve looked at the recovered blueprints and I think I know a few good spots to check out,” he said. “Particularly in the southeast area that the ARC Company isn’t using.”

That seemed like a good place to start. After bowing to Mr. Riggs, Polaris led Scorpio out of the office area and to the southeast quarter. It was cut off from the rest and had indeed been laboratory spaces once. His own room was in the southeast area.

Once they passed through the doors to that quarter, Scorpio started talking. “Polaris, is it? Rather fancy name for what you are. But what the heck happened to your hair? Isn’t it supposed to be ankle-length?”

He nodded slowly, but the questions bothered him. Did he notice that Polaris was supposed to be a clone of Zero? The humans hadn’t noticed, even though they showed a familiarity with the red Hunter’s image. He made a motion of slicing the hair off.

“You cut it? Well that’s an idiotic thing to do, given that you have cilia for hair.” After a chuckle, he said, “And yes, I know who you are: the alternate body made for Zero by Sigma and Serges.”

Polaris stopped at that, stunned. How did he know about that? And what should he do? Was his cover blown?”

“What’s with the scared look?” Scorpio asked him. “Don’t worry; I’m not here to put an end to you. Let’s get going.” When Polaris started leading again, Scorpio continued, “I knew you were still here. The others weren’t sure, but I knew. And I came here because of you. Sigma sent me, although I had a hand in influencing that decision. I supposed to check up on you and evaluate how you’re doing. Now Riggs told me that you don’t speak.”

He nodded, touching his throat.

“Did they ever get that voice installed in you? No? Blast it. I hate it when I’m sent to clean up somebody else’s sloppy work. But it gets me out of the way and lets me have some measure of autonomy to be over here. Look, I’ll get your voice installed, plus whatever else they didn’t get around to doing. We might even fix up your facial structure; people will get suspicious when your hair gets long and you start looking like Zero again. But you’ve gotta let me check out your systems and design. I’ve seen the blueprints, but I prefer seeing things in place, and in action.”

Pleased that he’d finally be able to communicate properly, he smiled and nodded.

“Good, good,” Scorpio said. “Oh, and don’t go telling this to others, but you know that Doppler anti-virus program? Yeah, Sigma has a hand in that. I helped to work on the design back when you were being built. It’s going to all blow up in the next couple of weeks, which is why I wanted to get my connections to the project severed. I might have a weakening strain of the virus, but it doesn’t make me stupid.”

Then he was a Maverick? Polaris felt concerned, especially about his human neighbors like Penny and Matthew. But he felt that he wasn’t in danger himself, so he let Scorpio work on finishing his build.

* * *

 

October 2156

Polaris sat in the room he had been defeated in. Although Scorpio had said nothing was wrong with his nerves, he could remember that charged buster shot slam into his back. He shuddered. And he could recall X’s face as if he were there again. That caused his whole body to freeze up in fear. Before that battle, he hadn’t anticipated pain, or worried much about consequences. He was only afraid at first because he had failed and could not find a victory. Now that he could anticipate more and worry, fear ruled him.

Yet he kept being drawn back to this room. He was a failure, a waste of time. Now even Scorpio was complaining about his ineptitude. He should have killed X, but he was attacked from behind. And then he’d tried to appear harmless only to overdo it; at least the voice of the virus was gone. His mind could be quiet, potentially at peace.

Cherry blossoms.

Polaris blinked. He hadn’t thought of that picture since Scorpio came. But he recalled that strange feeling of peace when all he had thought about was violence. That picture had touched him somehow. If only he could see it again. Or, recreate it.

He got up and looked around. In that moment, he felt that his pencils, crayons, and paper wouldn’t cut it. There was a can of spray paint by the door. He wasn’t sure what it was there for, but he went for it. Caution sign yellow. It would have to do. With it, he began drawing on the blank gray concrete wall.

It had been geometrical... no, maybe logical, but natural. Had it been a tree or just flowers and petals? Had there been grass or a brook? There had been motion. Not literal; the image was still, but the flowers appeared to move in a breeze. A spin motion, a drift motion, a fluttering? Polaris thought and searched his mind, but the image just wasn’t there. Only the feeling and idea of something he had never seen for real.

Eventually, he ran out of spray paint. Polaris stepped back and looked over his result. Bright yellow flowers were spread all over the walls. Some had lines suggesting a spin. Some appeared to wobble. Some were still. There were suggestions of a brook, trees, grass, a rock. Which were parts of his picture? Was any of it true?

This wasn’t the picture, nothing like it. It was its own thing. It was true in itself. And it was beautiful. It gave him the same feeling of peace, but now it didn’t seem strange. This could be his new destiny.

* * *

 

April 2194

The mural of yellow flowers was no longer there, having been painted over with flat gray. But the room was now an imitation of a park for all the residents to enjoy. It bore few reminders of the battle that had taken place decades ago. But Polaris knew all those reminders, and others hidden by time. There was, for instance, the upper tunnel that Zero had attacked him from.

He had placed one of his favorite sculptures in the room: The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Over three feet tall, it had a plaster-covered base carved to look like bark, with similar brambles of branches. On all of those branches, the leaves were made with hundreds of tiny green computer chips. It had taken a lot of searching to get all those chips, but he was glad he stuck to his original idea.

Could he really leave? His identity was part of this place, as this place was part of his identity. To go somewhere else, somewhere in the world X lived in...

There was a sharp pain in his head. He put his head in his hands and thought, ‘ _What are you doing in there?_ ’

_Sorry, I’m still figuring out how your mind works._

‘ _Are you messing with me?’_

_I’m doing what I’m supposed to do._

‘ _Then you are messing with me!’_

_No yelling, please. Are you going to move to Evergrande City? You should._

He spoke into his hands. “You know that anything you say, I probably won’t do.”

_Your loss._ It then went quiet.

Was it because he had almost decided to leave already?

* * *

 

Scorpio scurried about his lab, checking monitors and making notes. “I’ve concluded that none of the other subjects have turned into a Master Virus,” he said. “They are all Shifter viruses and the two strains did fight each other, sometimes leading to the subject’s death. And unfortunately, none of them are stronger as infected reploids. Some areas got boosted, but they all had something deteriorate right at infection. I need to look further into that… it seems that putting the two Shifter strains together in ordinary reploids, even compatible ones, causes some damage to their systems, undercutting any boosts the virus provides.”

Polaris listened while assisting as usual. “What about me?” he asked with some anxiety.

That made the scorpion chuckle. “You? The experiment had intriguing effects on you. For instance, it went about systematically eradicating your old processing chips and replacing them with more efficient ones, in greater numbers. The substantial mental growth has begun to level out, so we’ll be able to test your new intellectual capacity soon. That ought to be interesting. And although the virus is active inside you again, I haven’t noticed your level of violence increasing much.”

“It certainly tries to make me think of violence more,” he said with a shiver.

“However, I can’t quite label you a Master Virus yet,” Scorpio stated, tapping his foot in some annoyance. “We need to do some more tests: see if you can command the Shifters, figure out how to manipulate the virus copies, among other things that Sigma was capable of.”

More tests. Polaris bit his lip, then said, “I was considering moving out of ARC, actually. I want to see other places.”

“Do you now?” He chuckled in amusement. “Well it seems the virus has taken some hold on you if you’re finally turning your eyes away from this junk heap. I know where some of Sigma’s other labs are, ones that are untouched by the draconic Hunters. We can head out, but not immediately. Maybe in a few months when we’re more certain of your new abilities.”

_He still thinks he has complete control over us. He had purposely handicapped you with fear. You ought to make him suffer for being presumptuous enough to order about a Master Virus._

Instead, Polaris decided he wouldn’t tell Scorpio that he intended to move out the very next day.

* * *

 

The sun was just above the horizon, so few people were aboveground at ARC Junk City. By the gates, Polaris gave Vilpent a quick hug. “Thanks for everything. I couldn’t have left without your support.”

When let go, the snake nodded. “You’re welcome, and I return your thanks. I see the worst in reploids all too often in my line of work, so it is refreshing to meet a good one like you. Now you’d best go before an ally of Scorpio sees you leave.”

“Yeah. Do you think we’ll see each other again?”

He flicked his tongue out. “It’s possible. But I must always be careful, so do not be offended if I seem to be giving you a cold shoulder.”

“I understand. Well, good luck on your next mission, and goodbye.”

“Good luck on your new life, and goodbye.”

Polaris nodded, then got into the cab of the moving van. For a moment, he couldn’t quite believe that he was doing this. He had never left ARC Junk City, once known as the X Hunters Castle, in all his life. But perhaps this first change would lead to even better changes.


	6. Moving In

April 2194  
Evergrande City

Evergrande City filled the windows of the moving van as Polaris drove out of the transport station. There were buildings crammed together as far as he could see. Spotted here and there were small city parks of greenery, but this was carefully controlled, protected, and maintained greenery. Rails floated above the city, leaving the roads for pedestrians and buses. Most of the traffic flowed in overhead channels: flying vans like his, larger cargo trucks, private hovercars, and even the occasional small planes, although the latter had their own channels.

This alien world that he had only heard about was now below him. One could know everyone in the junkyard, and there were probably more than that just on this highway channel with him. There were some rather tall cranes ARC used, but these did not compare to the skyscrapers that he could see in other parts of the city. The only thing in ARC that could be called monumental was the company flagpole. But here, a dozen buildings could be called monumental, especially the enormous white arch that soared over where a river met the ocean.

To his eyes, all the greenery around was foreign. He’d seen small plants, but nothing taller than his knees could grow successfully in Junk City. In a park he caught a glimpse of, there were grand old trees that seemed to be thriving. These little parks were numerous, although even outside them, there were trees.

Even the highway was an unexpected experience. He’d learned to drive through flash learning, which installed the information directly into his mind. So far, all his experience was with small trucks in tunnels. Generally there wasn’t much traffic, although one always had to watch for pedestrians. But there were a lot of trucks here, most bigger than his small moving van. Fewer in comparison were the obviously private vehicles, smaller than his van. The sportier cars were a reckless lot, dashing in between lanes and zipping ahead.

_Just smash into one of them. That’ll teach them not to drive like that on a city highway._

“No,” he said aloud. “That’ll cause more problems. Besides, do you really want to get caught right away?”

_Hmm, good point. But you can cause a little bit of violence and destruction, right? Just to start with? That could be passed off as an accident._

Sighing, Polaris turned up the radio and tried to focus on the road and radio. “And we have an interesting bit of news that our listeners might want to hear about,” the talk show host said. “Last year, the big news was about the Giga City Rebellion, a group of revolutionaries lead by the reploid freedom extremist Epsilon. Although cleared of the status of Maverick after the incident died down, Epsilon’s Rebellion still proposed dangerous methods for dealing with the problems faced by reploids in modern society.

“Now we’ve learned that a number of philosophical recordings made by Epsilon have survived the group’s extermination and have not been branded top secret. A data service in Giga City has recently opened up copies of these recordings for public purchase. With other sources proving the authenticity of these recordings, now anyone can order and listen to the arguments made by this reploid radical. Is this going to be a true social revolution for reploidkind or is this only going to lead into another disastrous event? We’re opening up our lines for discussion and we’ve brought in several local experts to discuss the situation.”

He raised his eyebrows. “From Epsilon, huh? That’s kind of interesting, actually.”

_Who’s that?_

For a moment, Polaris hoped that there wasn’t a recording device left in the van. “Just what they said. Last year, Epsilon and his Rebellion forces drove all humans out of the manmade island of Giga City. They were branded Mavericks and while they were planning on launching some kind of missile somewhere in the northern hemisphere, it eventually came out that the label was a result of a Maverick within the Maverick Hunters. There was a huge debacle before it all came to an end, including a period of time when the three best Maverick Hunters, including X and Zero, were declared Maverick. Even back then, I knew that claim was utterly ridiculous. But some people fell for it.”

_Now that guy must have had some seriously impressive plan to take down the Maverick Hunters. But he must have done something stupid besides. You can do better._

“I doubt that.” He noticed his GPS directing him to leave the highway shortly, so moved into the exit lane.

_You’d certainly do better if you started actually listening to me,_ the virus grumbled.

Polaris didn’t bother to answer this time. He didn’t want to give it the satisfaction of starting an argument. Besides, it might be able to overtake him when he was angered. In that case, it was good that he had a slow temper.

He stopped the van outside a modest wooden house, one that might have been suitable for a family with one or two children. Amusingly enough, there was an old yellow railroad crossing sign stuck by the front walkway. It was accompanied by a blue and white flag labeled ‘ECPT’ with a stylized bullet train. This was the house of his new landlord, but he needed to speak with the man before settling in.

A short time after he knocked, a middle aged human answered the door. He looked over him with some caution. “Good morning, sir.”

He nodded. “Good morning, Mr. Reynolds?” When he confirmed that, he added, “I’m Polaris Starr; I’m moving into Vilpent’s old apartment.”

Then he opened the door wider and smiled. “Ah, so you’re friends with the old snake, is it? Good to meet you, Mr. Starr. Do you have your papers ready?”

“Yes sir,” he replied, bringing the file out from under his arm.

“Good. Come on in for a bit and I’ll get the last paper you need to sign.”

Polaris felt self-conscious, but he was curious to see the inside of the house. He’d never actually been in a house, having come from one of Sigma’s old bases which had evolved into a junkyard. Even so, he could tell that this house was peculiar. Mr. Reynolds had a thing for trains, possibly an obsession. The walls were covered in framed pictures and documents, all of trains or famous railroads. Any object in the house, from lamps to decorative pillows, had something that related to trains. An old engineer’s lantern, an elegant engine model, a cross-stitched toy train throw pillow… it was quite fascinating, even to someone who hadn’t thought much about trains before.

Mr. Reynolds was going through all the forms. Polaris had to sign a form stating that he was an independent reploid and qualified to live on his own (his old grading tests barely passed those standards, but Scorpio had been certain that he’d improved). Then he had to sign the usual agreements and legal statements, saying that he agreed to the terms of the lease, that Vilpent had granted him permission for the lease transfer, and that he wouldn’t intentionally wreck the apartment. Yesterday, Polaris had made sure to read over everything carefully, as he didn’t want to mess anything up.

“Looks like everything is in order,” the landlord said. “All we’ve got now is the final agreement for both of us to sign. So I need to tell you... Vilpent usually paid ahead and he’s currently got three paid months remaining. You don’t have to worry about paying rent until mid-July, but I’ll send you a reminder two weeks prior to the due date. That should give you plenty of time to adjust to this place and find a good job.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I should be able to handle the payments by then.”

“Good. I believe I left the papers over in here…” he walked into a side room.

Following, Polaris noticed that this was a display room for a miniature train set. When Mr. Reynolds flipped the lights on, the two trains on the track started back up, running around their miniature worlds. “Hey, this is pretty cool.”

He laughed. “You like it? I’ve worked a long time to get this room up and running. And I’ve got work left to do in order to get it just how I want it.”

“I’ve done some sculpture work, but not miniatures like this,” he said.

“Is that so? Ah, here’s the form.” He handed it over and discussed it with Polaris. Then they both signed it. Mr. Reynolds then went to his office to go put the file away, but said he could look around the miniature room a bit more.

Polaris checked out some of the miniature landscaping. This particular section looked to be an alpine setting: steep slopes, large rocks, sturdy plants, and tough pines. Up close, he could tell that it was too regular to have been handmade. Some touches were added here and there to make it appear irregular: a stray scratch, a finger indent, a brush stroke. The prefab pieces took away some of the natural appearance, but only to someone like himself. A casual on-looker would think this was quite natural looking. Might even be fooled into believing it was handmade.

“I didn’t mind Vilpent much,” Mr. Reynolds said, coming back into the room. “Never caused trouble and always made his payments early. He did meet up with some odd folks, but nothing too suspicious.”

“He was a good friend to me,” Polaris said.

“I’d believe it. Well I know I’d talk your ears off if we got onto trains, but I’m sure you want to get moved in and all. The apartment’s not far from here, so if we just stash my bike onto your van, we can head right over. That is, if your van isn’t too full.”

Blushing a bit, he replied, “There’s plenty of space. I didn’t bring much with me.”

After the human locked up his house, they placed the bike in the van and headed for the apartment. Mr. Reynolds informed him that ‘ECPT’ stood for ‘Evergrande City Public Transportation’, primarily the subway system that he worked for. They also handled buses and autodrive taxis so even someone without a vehicle could get around easily. According to him, it was a system the city was proud of… but then again, he loved any kind of train.

Several streets over, they parked by the three-story apartment building. It had a covered garage with a set of storage lockers. No cars were there at that time, though. The landlord went over to the lockers and unlocked ‘103’ to pull out a set of keys. “Here,” he said, tossing the three keys at him. “You would be in room 103, so these are your keys. The plain one goes to this locker, which you can store any extra items in. The white capped one goes to the three entry doors; this neighborhood isn’t bad, but we prefer that they stay locked unless a number of you are in the downstairs area. And the black capped one goes to your room.”

“All right,” he said, checking the locker over before locking it back up. It looked about the right size to stash his armor away in, provided he rearranged the pieces into a compact shape. Then he unlocked the side door in the garage to let them inside.

The landlord touched the left wall. “The largest suite is right here, room 001. It belongs to the Freemans, but they won’t be here right now. The rest of this downstairs area is a common space shared by everyone, so you’ll share in responsibility to keep it cleaned and stocked. Bathrooms are here on the right side… then this would be the living area. This image caster is shared too and the satellite link is part of the utilities charge.”

“That’s good,” Polaris said, looking around the room. There was a sectional couch which was black with a dark green fern pattern; this circled around three sides of the space. There were also small side tables in between sections and one larger coffee table in the center. As for the IC, it looked to be a really good model. But then, anything would be better than what the junkyard provided.

About then, there was a scampering of paws rushing down a set of wooden stairs. A small black terrier dog came up to them with its collar tag jingling. “Arf!”

“And this would be the Freeman’s dog, Louie,” Mr. Reynolds said, patting the dog on the head when he put his paws on the man’s leg. “I only want small pets like this around, and city regulations for this area say up to three dog or cat sized pets can be in a building like this. Well-trained, of course.”

“Of course,” Polaris replied, waving at the dog when it started checking him out.

The landlord pointed ahead. “There’s a large dining area over in that room. Since it’s separate, some residents may reserve certain times to hold parties in there. I don’t mind small groups, but anything larger than six people, please inform me and the other residents before it occurs. And over here is our kitchen. All the equipment is shared unless it has a label with a name on it. Also, if you don’t want to be sharing food, keep it in your room. I’ve put in a rule that any food item in the kitchen is free to anyone, plus each suite has its own food pantry and refrigerator.”

Since it was of interest to him, Polaris spent a little while taking in the kitchen and its appliances. These he could tell were really good items, things he had seen on internet catalogs and wished he could have. The countertop was a fake marble inlay, but it seemed solid. As for the appliances, they were all matte black. But that was okay, he thought, as a glossy or stainless steel surface would take extra work to keep clean.

“This looks pretty nice,” he finally said with a smile. “I like how you have this arranged; it seems quite workable.”

Mr. Reynolds laughed a bit. “Glad you like it, although I wouldn’t have expected a reploid to appreciate it. My wife insisted that any living place needed a good kitchen.”

“I have unique hobbies, I guess,” Polaris said. “So I would be on the second floor, then?”

“Right, this way.”

In a corner at the back of the building, they went up the stairs to the second floor. There was a set of closets by the stairs and a set of bathrooms with showers at the other end of the hall. Apartment 103 was the northwest of four apartments. It was made up of a single room, slightly smaller than his old apartment in the A-tunnels. The eastern wall was made up of a closet with sliding doors and a bunch of drawers stacked on either side of it. There was a large window to the north with a padded bench hiding more storage. The terrier hopped onto the bench and cocked his head at them, as if asking to play.   
  
Vilpent had left behind a bamboo mat, a short yellow couch that he would have found suitable for lounging on, and an empty filing cabinet next to the provided refrigerator.   
  
“Yeah, we could never tell when he’d be here,” Mr. Reynolds said, putting his hand on the doorframe. “He came by a while ago to take anything he wanted to keep, so I guess you inherit whatever’s in here too.”

“Hmm… it does help a bit, as I only brought one chair.”

The door to the apartment opposite his opened up. “Hey there Reynolds,” another man said. He was a much older human, but he still seemed to be in good shape.

“Hello Abe,” the landlord replied. “Abe, this is the guy who’s moving into Vilpent’s apartment, Polaris Starr. Polaris, this would be Abraham Mitchells, but just call him Abe.”

“Hey there young fellow,” Abe said, shaking hands with Polaris. “You’re a friend of Vilpent’s then?”

He nodded. “Yes I am. But don’t assume that I’m young just because I look it.”

He grinned. “Oh really? How old are you then?”

“Thirty-eight years.”

“You certainly look half your age then,” Abe said, nodding.

“You’ve been operating since the second Sigma War?” Mr. Reynolds asked. “That’s a lengthy run time, as I understand it.”

“I guess,” Polaris said. “But I haven’t done anything to get myself corrupted or killed either.”

Abe chuckled. “That’s a tip all the young ones could use, huh? Need help moving your things in? I’m free.”

“Yeah, thanks. The most troublesome thing is probably the sleeping pod.”

They headed downstairs, followed again by Louie. “They usually are,” Abe said. “We’ve got four other reploids living here and I’ve helped a few of them move in too. And don’t worry, you’re in good company with this place.”

The sleeping pod was an essential piece of furniture to an independent reploid. Sleeping in beds was okay, but most reploids preferred the pods. In addition to providing general maintenance, they also allowed a reploid to hook him or herself up to an external power source, which was useful when one suspected something was wrong with a power core or system. And it kept records on one’s operations, which could be given to an engineer for help in repairs, updates, or upgrades. Polaris’ pod was an old one, but it was in excellent working condition thanks to Scorpio’s efforts. Hopefully the scorpion didn’t leave any monitor or trap programs inside…

Other than that, he didn’t have much. There were two of his junk tables, including the marble one which he was still working on. There were his easel and painting supplies. Before he’d left, he put what paintings he had into a digital storage box; there had been too many of them to store otherwise. There were his personal care items, many of which would need to be replaced in time but could make due for now. There were his clothes, of which there weren’t many. With one chair that he had liked too much to leave behind, there were just a few small decorative items, either of his own make or gifts from old (and often deceased) friends. Lastly, there was the Tree sculpture that he didn’t want to leave behind to get vandalized; he brought it up in its crate, but left it in there. Everything else, including all his previous cooking supplies, he had left behind as he would be able to find much better stuff in this city.

After Mr. Reynolds had left, Abe commented to Polaris, “Your room’s rather sparse, even compared to what the snake had in here.”

“Well I came from ARC Junk City, underneath the junkyard,” he said. “I left a lot of stuff behind. But then, this is quite an upgrade from what I had been living in.”

“It would be. So what’re you planning to do now?”

“Huh? I’m still trying to figure it out. Probably get a job first. Although today… say, how many people are living here currently?”

“Currently? Lemme think.” He tapped against his fingers, counting. “Well on this floor, there’s you and me, and Kyoto and Susan. Down below, you’ve got Naomi, Leon, and Tom. But Leon’s been away for a good while, so it’s just the mom and kid. Then up above us, there’s Kay, Kisa, Hue, and Daniel. So, ten with you.”

“Ten, huh? See, I like to cook and bake, so I thought about making dinner for everyone tonight, if that’s okay.”

Abe grinned. “Okay? That’d be great. Nobody else cooks much around here. Oh, but then… I know Kay can’t eat anything, and Hue’s an odd reploid so he only eats certain things. And Kisa keeps to herself, so much that sometimes I even forget that she’s here. So you’d probably only need to account for seven.”

Polaris rubbed his chin. “Yes, but I tend to plan for one extra with a group meal, so I’d estimate for eight. I need to see what’s downstairs first before really deciding… although I’d love to make some kind of bread. Is there a good grocery store nearby?”

“Sure enough. Well I’m a retired old fogey, at least by human standards, so I don’t have much to do aside from my little projects. I’ll help you out if you need it, but I’m not much good in the kitchen. I can pay for any food stuff you want to get though.”

“Really? Thanks.”

“No trouble, especially if I get to eat the results. Let’s get down there and see what tickles your fancy.”

In the kitchen, they found a good assortment of pots, pans, dishes, and utensils. And the knives seemed to be in good shape, if in need of a sharpening. There were miscellaneous this and that for food, but on seeing a box of raisins and two bottles of cinnamon, Polaris felt an impulse to make cinnamon rolls instead of regular bread. For that, he’d need to check a recipe, as his previous attempt at that had failed. Part of that had been his temperamental oven not getting them done, but still…

He wasn’t sure what to make for supper, but he and Abe caught a bus to the grocery store. “Once you get the money, you should buy a transport pass,” Abe recommended. “It seems a bit high at a hundred and twenty, but that’s ten bucks a month for unlimited use of all the ECPT systems. Between that and a foldable bike, it’s the cheapest way to get around. Owning a car around here is just a status symbol, pretty much.”

“Sounds like it.”

Although Abe said the local supermarket was average sized, it still impressed Polaris. There was so much here. Things that he used to have to special order in ARC were here daily, and at much better prices. There was even a deli with an olive bar, which amused Abe as much as it delighted Polaris. In back, there was a sale on chicken, especially on whole ones.

That gave him the idea to make a roast chicken, and he soon picked out a good looking one that should cover everyone. He then went after rice, various vegetables, chicken stock, some herbs and spices which were missing, flour, sugar, and other items he thought a well stocked kitchen should have. In the end, the price wasn’t quite as high as he thought it would be, although it was still quite a lot. Abe simply shrugged and paid for it all.

Back at the apartment, Polaris set the chicken inside the sink in water, so it could thaw in time. Then he arranged things in the kitchen a bit more thoughtfully before starting on the dough for the cinnamon rolls. Abe stayed down and chatted with him, already feeling like a good friend.

For much of the afternoon, it was just the two of them. But at a quarter to three, a dark-skinned boy around ten years old came in. He was dressed in a t-shirt with LED panels to have animated pictures over the front, mud-edged jeans, and well-worn sneakers. He put his backpack by the IC area and came over. “Hi Abe,” he said. “Whatcha cooking?”

“Nothing,” the old man replied. “But our new neighbor Polaris is making cinnamon rolls.”

“Awesome! Can I have some? Please?”

“When they’re done,” Polaris said, while mixing up frosting in a bowl. “You can help me frost them if you want.”

He turned out to be Tom, just coming home school. While he brought out some homework to work on, a young girl walked in from the side door. At least, she seemed like a little girl at first. She was four feet tall and seemed to be the same apparent age as the boy. She wore an old-fashioned dark blue dress with a lacy white apron; that and her lavender pigtails, pearl necklace, black kid shoes, and kid gloves made her seem like a high class child from centuries ago. But she also had a panel of lights above her left eye and an obvious port slot on her neck. She was a reploid.

“Ah, Kisa, it’s a rare treat to see you around,” Abe said. He introduced her to Polaris.

“Do you want to stay around for dinner?” he added. “I’m making roast chicken and rice pilaf.”

Despite the offer, Kisa gave them a look of cool indifference. “No, thank you. I’ve only got an hour to myself today.” Then she hurried on and went upstairs.

Abe watched after her for a second. “That happens a lot when we do see her. I don’t even know that much about her.”

“She’s kind of creepy,” Tom said, pulling over a stool so he could sit on the other side of the counter. “Kind of like Kay, but at least you know why with her. Where’s your frosting?”

Polaris tapped the bowl. “Right here; I make my own because it’s a lot better than that canned stuff I’ve tried.” The timer buzzed, so he shut that off and checked on the rolls. They still looked pale and gooey, so he left them in.

Ten minutes later, a black woman came in as Polaris, Abe, and Tom were frosting the rolls. “I hope these boys aren’t making trouble for you,” she said, nudging Tom.

“We’re helping,” he said, dipping his butter knife into the bowl for more frosting.

“Helping yourself to bits of the frosting, it seems,” Polaris said jokingly. Then he got introduced to Naomi Freeman, Tom’s mother and the first floor renter.

After telling her son that he could have only one roll for an afternoon snack, Naomi took a frosted one herself. “My husband works on the moon base rebuilding project,” she said. “But they aren’t approved to take civilians yet, so we’re staying down here.”

“We’re going to go up and live on the moon someday soon,” Tom said in excitement. “I’m going to learn to be a pilot so I can be on the Earth or the moon whenever I want.”

“That’s going to take a lot of work, to learn that,” Polaris said.

“Yeah, but I’ll do it,” the boy said. “Dad says I have to do really good at school for that, so I do my homework on time.”

“That’s a lot better drive then I had as a kid your age,” Abe said, ruffling the boy’s hair up. “But I had a lot more fun at it.”

“Did not!”

“What’re you guys arguing about this time?” a voice came from the side hall. Two reploids came in this time. The one speaking was a guy with shoulder-length black hair; he looked human aside from a large area of bare metal around both of his wrists. That was the sign of having a power tool attachment port, of which basic hands were only one option among hundreds of possibilities.

The other wasn’t humanoid at all. Rather, he was a ‘Demon’-class with a bulky body, arms, and feet, but a flat dome for a head. Most looked to be made of clay, but this particular Demon seemed to be made of blue gelatin with a cluster of mechanical parts inside. His torso and limbs seemed dense, like they were compressed to walk in this building. Given that normal Demons were much bigger, that was probably the case.

“Nothing,” Abe said.

“As usual,” Naomi teased. “Want a cinnamon roll? Polaris here made them.”

“Oh sweet! Thanks man.” He offered a handshake before taking one. “I’m Kyoto, and this here is Hue. Are you moving in?”

Polaris took the handshake, smiling. “I already have moved in, in place of Vilpent. Good to meet you. I’m making dinner too, and you’re welcome to it.”

“Wow, we’re gonna get spoiled with you around, huh? Is that chicken I smell? I don’t think Hue can eat meats.”

“No,” the blue demon said, in an unexpectedly soft but masculine voice. “But if you’ve got potatoes or rice, I love those.”

“I will have rice pilaf to make later, so I’m make sure to have more of that,” Polaris said.

“A change from plain rice will be nice,” Hue said. “I’ll be back down later.”

On the other hand, Kyoto stayed down and chatted with the rest of them. It pleased Polaris that he’d come to a friendly and mixed apartment. It probably helped that he could cook and bake, as that put him in a positive light to them. With that, his nervousness about moving away from ARC had vanished almost entirely now.

Around four, a single female reploid came in, carrying a large bag at her side. Unlike Kisa or even Kyoto, she was obviously a mechanical being, with a black jumpsuit over her body from the neck down, lightweight peach and green armor like that of a manufacturing worker, a plain face with plain brown eyes, and a pale green helmet instead of hair. “Excuse me,” she said to Tom, who was running back to his apartment for something.

“Hey Kay, you’re no longer the newbie around here,” Kyoto said cheerily, before introducing her and Polaris.

“Nice to meet you,” he said while shaking her hand. “I heard that you don’t eat, but you can join us for supper if you’d like.”

“I may come for a time, but I am still adapting to conversations,” she said in a monotone voice. “But I will try. Excuse me, but I have work to attend to.” She then headed upstairs.

Polaris felt a bit odd about that. “They’re still making robot masters?”

“If they are, then she’s probably one,” Abe said. “She’s been here two weeks, but we still can’t get her to talk less formally. But she doesn’t feel emotions like us, so it can’t be helped.”

Kyoto leaned towards him on the counter. “I hear that she’s a straight Grade-F reploid. She works for Iconaic and given how cheap their products are, I’d believe that they’d make their reploids to the lowest legal levels, lower if they could get away with it.”

“I still want to know what she’s doing here if she’s an Iconaic factory worker,” Naomi said. “I’ve never even seen any of them until she moved in, and I work in the same area as she does.”

Abe shrugged. “Maybe they’re seeing if their reploids would be all right living on their own. They’re trying to recover their public image from that stock scandal.”

“It’d work a lot better if they put more effort into their personalities,” Naomi pointed out.

“Oh my gosh, what smells so good?” a woman asked, coming down the hall. A man followed just behind her. “I wasn’t told we were having a fancy dinner.”

“It’s not actually that fancy,” Polaris said.

“Our new neighbor here, Polaris, he can cook,” Kyoto said. “We’ve even got homemade cinnamon rolls.”

Once in the room, the woman seemed to be in her thirties, but she had dark chestnut brown hair that was colored bright white on the ends, and styled artistically to flip just over her left eye and hang down near her right shoulder. The rest of her outfit was just as unique, a black sleeveless shirt, a white silk scarf, and black pants, the latter of which had images of piano keys winding around the legs. On the other hand, the man was more subdued, with a brown vest over a white long sleeved shirt, and brown pants and a brown newsboy cap to finish it off. They were both humans.

And she squealed and came over to hug him. “Oh, wonderful, thank you! You’re my new favorite neighbor!”

“Aw come on, Susan,” Abe said teasingly. “I thought I’d always be your favorite neighbor.”

“You don’t cook,” she said, letting Polaris go to grab a roll.

“Well I’m glad to cook for you all, anytime,” Polaris said, smiling although he felt a little embarrassed about the sudden hug.

She turned out to be Susan Thompson, a music professor at the Everett University School of Liberal Arts. And the man with her was Daniel Langley, a law professor at the Everett University School of Business and Law. “There’s also the medical school and the technology school,” Daniel said. “And since we also support the public schools, Everett is pretty much the largest education system in the area.”

“You sound like the advertisement pamphlets,” Susan teased him. “I told you, if you’re going to be introducing yourself to people, you ought to be more interesting.”

“When it comes to interesting, I pale in comparison to you,” Daniel replied.

“I beg to differ.”

The conversations continued while Polaris finished up the meal, and then he was able to join in more while everyone was eating. It was great to be accepted so readily, he felt. Even if he had to mentally argue every so often with the virus to not infect his neighbors. That would draw attention… and they were already friends.


	7. Childcare and Other Troubling Things

April, 2184

City Workforce-Job offer 355906 (temp only)   
1209 S. Oak Street   
Bayside South, Evergrande City.   
  
Polaris stepped off the train at the Bayside South Station around quarter til six in the morning. This neighborhood was classy and rich. Every house had a nice neat appearance and a nice neat lawn. No expense was spared. Although it pleased Polaris’ aesthetic sense, it made him wonder just how much money was spent to get that look. Was it worth that? He wasn’t sure.   
  
The Bayside South community was also in position to have a good view of Evergrande’s most recognizable feature, the Grand Archway. It was a white aluminum arch, straddling the divide between bay and river, soaring five hundred feet above the ground. At four hundred and fifty feet over the bay, there was an observation hall that apparently had a magnificent view of the city. But that was awful high up; Polaris got queasy just looking up at the arch.   
  
He brought his attention back to earth, back to the job review. There wasn’t much information in the description, just that it needed to be filled immediately for one month and that one should be ‘good with kids’. Polaris didn’t have much experience with kids, but since it was the first to come up and get accepted for him, he decided to give it a try.   
  
1209 happened to be one of the grandest homes he saw on the street. It was about the size of his communal apartment, but it had a front yard with the same footprint. It was built of brick and fancy iron, a beautiful house. Maybe he would paint it one of these days.  
  
He went to the side door as instructed. A plump brown haired woman answered the door. She wore a brown dress with a white apron with an equally old-fashioned bun hairdo. “Good morning sir.”

“Good morning,” he replied. “I’m Polaris; I got accepted to the childcare position here last night.”

At first, she seemed skeptical. “You were accepted for it? Are you a reploid? I can’t quite tell.”

He nodded and handed over the confirmation page he had printed off. “I am. It did say the position was needed to be filled immediately.”

“Yes, although I expected the lady… do you have any weapons on you?”

“No, ma’m,” he said, honestly. Polaris had locked his weapons and armor up in the storage locket, as he saw no use for them here in Evergrande.

“Well if Mrs. Everett approved, I can’t argue. Please come in. I’m Ida Bunker, the housekeeper.” Ida then led him to a home office, where the lady of the household was.

And even by modern standards, she had the poise and look of a lady. She had flawless red hair, grass green eyes, and perfectly toned skin. She wore a well fitted business suit made of fine wool, diamond earrings, gold necklace, a gold marriage band, and another gold ring with a large clear diamond set with emeralds. All that for work? She looked to them and asked coolly, “Yes?”

“This is the fellow you’ve hired to watch over the children,” Ida said. “Polaris.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Everett,” he said, offering to shake her hand.

She accepted, if briefly. “Good, you’re just in time. Come over here for a moment.”

As Ida left to take care of her jobs, Polaris came into the office. “Do you need my employment records?”

She waved a hand, watching a printer spitting out papers with small text filling much of the space. “We’ll deal with that later. My husband is off on a month long business trip, I’m already late, and our usual nanny had the nerve to get cancer. She’ll be back in a month, so I need you to take over right away.”

He felt nervous. This woman wasn’t asking questions for the safety of her children? “I’ll do my best for the children, lady.”

“That’s good. You’ll be expected promptly at a quarter to six in the morning to help the older kids get to school, then you’ve only got the youngest until school’s out at two-thirty. I’ll be back at four, which will be the end of your day. Sunday’s the only day you don’t need to come in. Here’s the contact information,” she handed him a list of phone numbers, “here’s a key to the medicine cabinet,” she handed that to him, “do not to leave it open.”

“Of course not,” he said, taking it.

With the printing done, she took the pages and slipped them into a folder to put in her bag. “All right, let’s find the children. It’s Saturday and the butler will handle driving them to the afternoon activities. Kids! Come down to the living room!”

The next couple of minutes were a bustle as five kids came in from various rooms. At Mrs. Everett’s command, they stood obediently in a line. Their mother looked them over sternly. “All right. This is Alex, he’s ten.” Alex Everett had bright red hair and green eyes like his mother, but had a different face. “And he must be finishing his school science project today, correct?”

“Yes mother,” he said with a scowl.

“Don’t be like that. This is Daniel, he’s eight.” Daniel Everett had reddish brown hair and blue eyes. “And he’s not to have his air pistol for the next week. Make sure he takes his asthma medication and that he doesn’t lose his emergency inhaler.”

Daniel glared at his mother’s shoes, but didn’t do anything else.

“This is Thomas, not Tom, and he’s seven. He takes Prozac in the morning and evening. You did do that this morning, correct?”

“Yes, mother.” Thomas Everett had browner hair than Daniel and hazel eyes.

“This is Marie, she’s five. She can’t have raw milk products, so the soymilk is for her.”

Marie Everett nodded. She had frizzy red hair, blue eyes, and freckles. At her side, she kept a hold on the youngest so he didn’t get distracted.

“And this is Parker, he’s two. Straighten up, Parker.”

Parker Everett blinked; he’d lost interest in the introductions. He had strawberry blond hair and green eyes. On being pointed to Polaris, he noticed his long orange hair and stared at it curiously.

“And this will be your nanny for the next month, Polaris. You should be proper young gentlemen and lady for him, or else.”

“Yes, mother,” the four older ones said with varying degrees of apathy.

“Good.” She turned to Polaris. “If you have any other questions, ask the housekeeper. I must be going.”

“Have a good day, Mrs. Everett,” he replied.

He looked back at the kids. Without a word, the four older ones all glanced at each other, grinned, then ran off in four different directions. Parker came over and tried to take hold of his hair. This was looking to be a challenge.

* * *

The Everett children had lots of toys. Noisy toys, expensive toys, colorful toys. But for most days, Parker seemed satisfied with piling wooden blocks and knocking them over. Polaris stayed nearby, watching him but also using the children’s computer to learn about Evergrande City and the customs of the area.   
  
Although the house was beautiful with warm colors on the inside and out, it seemed cold to Polaris. The staff, consisting of the cook, the butler, the housekeeper, and a gardener, wasn’t really close. They were just co-workers. There were wonderful works of art that caught his interest: paintings, vases, exotic glassware. But these works were part of the background to them, just the image of wealth. Did these people enjoy anything?   
  
_These humans are quite careless, aren’t they?_

‘Let’s not get into that line of thinking,’ Polaris mentally told the virus.

_And why not?_

‘That’s how my maker got into trouble. He was insane by the end of it and I’m not letting you drive me insane.’

_Not very open-minded, are you?_  
  
“Bus,” Parker said, pointing to the window.

Looking at the clock, he saw that it was the right time. “Yes, it’s time for the bus,” he said. “Good job knowing what time it is.”

The toddler smiled, then took his hand and walked with him outside. These hours when he had just one child to watch after, Polaris found the job to be okay. Not ideal, but he could handle it. But when Parker’s siblings got home, then there would be fussing, trouble, and arguments. That part of the job he didn’t like, but he was only needed for three more weeks. Today though, he had a plan that he hoped would keep them all occupied until Mrs. Everett got home.

The two of them were outside for less than ten minutes when the large yellow bus stopped in front of their house. All four of the older ones came off, already involved in a heated debate. “No, Jet’s the better character because he can attack faster,” Daniel said.

“Steel is way stronger and does more damage when he attacks,” Alex said.

Daniel shook his head. “But he’s way slow and Jet can get in lots of attacks and do more damage in the time it takes Steel to hit once.”

“Nova’s better then all of them,” Thomas said.

“Because he’s a lazy player’s character and takes no skill at all.”

“Could I get your attention off video games for this afternoon?” Polaris asked.

Marie snorted. “Good luck with that. The boys are always talking about their dumb fighting games.”

“They’re not as dumb as your dressing up games,” Daniel said.

“You all just enjoy different games,” Polaris said, putting a hand on Marie’s shoulder so she didn’t go hitting her brother. “I have some good news for you; we can go visit Annie later today.”

“All right!” Alex said, grinning while his siblings cheered (although Parker seemed to only do so because the others did).

As he thought. He hoped doing that would get the kids’ favor and hopefully encourage them to be more cooperative with him. Taking Parker’s hand again to lead them inside, Polaris added, “And I thought you might want to make some pictures or crafts to cheer her up. I’ve got some supplies ready in play room.”

Thankfully, they were willing to give up their video games to do that. He had looked up some resources on kids crafts and decided that the three older boys were probably old enough to decide what to do on their own. And given some options, they settled on things they liked. But Parker and Marie were in the age ranges where crafts with simple instructions were better. Polaris set the toddler up with finger paints, then showed Marie how to make tissue paper flowers.

“Hey Mr. Polaris,” Marie asked, “Do you think pink or yellow is better for my flower now?”

But she could make some choices. He looked at the colorful flower Marie was constructing. The material was thin and prone to tearing, but she was working carefully with it. “You have two more layers, right?”

“Right.”

“What’s your outside layer going to be?”

“Red.”

“Then I think yellow would work better if you want a bright alternating pattern. But pink could work too, for a more gradual change.”

Marie looked at it. “Okay, I’ll do yellow.”

Polaris quickly snatched Daniel’s cup of rinse water before it spilled onto his sister’s tissue paper. “Careful with yourself.”

“Parker’s painting himself,” Thomas said.

“It’s finger paint, he’ll be okay.” Leaving the room at the moment might spark a sibling argument. But it broke out even without Polaris leaving, so he had to separate Daniel and Thomas with Alex. After the art session, he made them all clean up for when their mother got home, although he had to take care of Parker himself.

Human children had so much energy for a creature so small, Polaris thought. And they had different motivations and no idea that their motivations might be different than another person’s motivations. Thus you could never quite be sure what a group of small children would do. This is what made Polaris nervous around them, and what caused him to watch these five closely. Perhaps if he watched closely, he could anticipate trouble. This theory was working well so far. So when Alex and Daniel ran by the bathroom while Polaris was still scrubbing Parker’s arms, he was nervous, but didn’t immediately go after them. After all, the toddler was trying to lick the liquid soap off his fingers.

Thankfully, the older boys didn’t cause much trouble, just a bit of rudeness that had to be lectured. And Ida provided the stern lecture. After taking a snack break, Polaris had them put their artworks into a canvas bag and they went out to visit Annie.

It was a nightmare. They took a public bus, so Polaris had to constantly remind them to sit still and not argue or pinch your brother. As the bus did not stop next to the hospital she was in, he had to walk them through a park to get there. That meant holding Parker’s hand and trying to keep the older boys from running off to play. Even though they loved Annie and wanted to visit her, the day was too nice to be inside. For a child, at least. Polaris wouldn’t mind being inside, especially with his art.

When they got into the hospital, Polaris asked where Annie’s room was, while trying to keep the Everett kids quiet. She was up in the seventh story, which meant they had to take an elevator. Aside from a single one in ARC (that he avidly avoided when possible), he didn’t have much experience with them. He’d seen an IC show once where an elevator crashed and nine people inside died. He got the children in the elevator, took a few deep breaths, and then had to tell Thomas not to smack all the buttons.

After accidentally riding to several floors throughout the building, they got on the seventh story. Then they had to decide which hall was the right one. This building was laid out like a spider’s web. Spiders… but there would be none here. Polaris asked a nurse and found Annie’s room.

She was glad to see them and they were glad to see her. The kids presented their art works as get-well pieces and Annie took them as treasures. So they were getting good care from at least one source. It made Polaris feel better. He sat to the side and let the children talk to Annie.

Polaris brought them back over the next two Fridays as well. Those were the best days of that whole month.

* * *

During his off-hours and Sundays, Polaris checked out the city he had moved to. Mrs. Everett was giving him a weekly paycheck, so he was able to pick up a transportation pass easily. Once he had one, there was so much he could go do. There were galleries for local artists, even a large art museum that he promised himself he’d go see when the childcare position was done. There were all kinds of stores, including many that catered to reploids. And there was even an open-air market that took place regularly. In this area, there weren’t many reliable farms, but the produce had been teleported in from safer lands, making it extremely fresh. Those along with the ethnic and specialty food stores meant that he could try anything in cooking that he wanted to.

But then, having the option to do anything made it so hard to choose. Fortunately, the other apartment residents had agreed to lend him funds to buy food or other cooking supplies if he kept making meals to share in. Polaris was always glad for that, so he asked them what they would want to have.

He was trying out a few recipes for Naomi today, including a pork roast and a sweet potato casserole. It left him with some free time, so he got his notebook and sketched the items around the kitchen. While he got some arts and crafts in with the kids, it was stuff like finger painting and making sure they didn’t glue sequins and feathers onto things they shouldn’t. Getting back to his level of work was reassuring.

“What’re you drawing?” a voice interrupted him.

He bolted upright, startled. But it turned out to only be his neighbor, Daniel. “Oh, um, just stuff around here. Sorry, you startled me.”

“Well then I’m sorry for startling you,” he said with a smile. He came closer and glanced at the sketch. “That looks pretty good. Of course, I’m not that much of an artist.”

“Thanks anyhow.” He put the pencil down and checked the time. Not quite time to check on the stuff in the oven. “I love art, all kinds of it. So I sketch to pass time. But I do make paintings and sculptures.”

Daniel looked interested, thankfully. “Really? You’ve been doing this for long?”

“Years,” he said, smiling fondly. “I had some instruction at first, but I mostly taught myself.”

“That’s impressive. Actually, if you’re interested in art, you might want to check out this project going on at the university. There’s been talk of putting up a mural on one of the walls, as it’s just a big blank gray wall now. A rather out of place eyesore. There’s a competition to design and help paint it; they’re hoping to get some locals to do so.”

Shrugging, Polaris said, “Well I just moved here.”

He winked. “Yeah, but you’re a reploid artist. I hear that’s kind of rare. I think they’d liked that, if you put in a great entry. There should be information on the school’s website about it.”

“I’ll think about it, then.”

He ended up borrowing the IC in the common area to check; mural entries were still being accepted, but the deadline wasn’t far off. He wouldn’t have a lot to time. However, the theme ideas they put out were interesting. They wanted something that could represent all of the schools under their name, but there were also suggestions of modern day muses and inspiration. One suggestion for the technology group had included using X as a part of the mural. That, he couldn’t do. Polaris often painted scenes from his nightmares, but he had never managed to paint X. For a time, he had even avoided using blue.

The idea of modern day muses stuck with him. Polaris thought about it, made some sketches. Once the kitchen was cleaned up from supper, he continued work in his room. When he had several ideas to decide between, he put the sketchbook down for a bit and unpacked his tree sculpture. It would help to take a small break. Besides, this was the last thing he needed to unpack that wasn’t going to stay in storage for the time being.

As he thought, some of the chips had fallen off. It wasn’t too hard to put them back on, just a little tedious in getting them in place. It happened whenever he tried to move the tree somewhere, or when it got bumped into. While some of them were glued in place, he left most hanging by little hooks so that they could move freely if any air moved by. He liked that dynamic element over having it always static, so Polaris didn’t mind having to put the chip leaves back on every so often.

Then a voice interrupted his focus again. “Oh hey, where’d you get that?” Kyoto was standing in the doorway, looking at the tree in admiration.

A few of the leaves dropped off when Polaris flinched, so he dropped down to pick up the ones that had hit the floor. “I made it.”

“Oh, sorry,” Kyoto said, picking up one that had come near his feet. He came over and looked for a spot to put it.

“It’s okay; it happens quite a bit.” He pointed out a free spot. “The hooks are tiny, so be careful.”

“Gotcha.” He got it onto the tree, then stepped back. “You made this? That’s pretty amazing. Did you make it from a kit?”

He shook his head. “No, I designed and built it all myself, from scraps in the junkyard. Getting all these chips took the longest.”

“I’d imagine. Hey, are you an A grade reploid? I mean, you cook really well, and you’re taking care of kids, and you can make this up all on your own.”

Polaris bit his lip. Every reploid was graded for their intelligence, personality, creativity, and capabilities, based on how close they were to human averages. At the low end, there were Grade F reploids like Kay who were noticeably not human. It went up E, D, C, B, and A, with A being right at human average. However, it was common knowledge that the only straight A reploid, without a single grade below that level, was X. And X wasn’t even really a reploid. Reploids were the machines built off of his basic design.

“No, I’m a Grade B,” he said. “Just below the level for full citizenship, actually. I have been told that my grades might have been skewed by the one who tested me, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

“It might be true,” Kyoto said. “But you must have pretty high creativity scores, at least. I’m right at the cutoff between C and B myself; I have a few areas that rank with Grade A, but then a lot of Cs and even an E.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s like that for me too.”

Looking back at the tree, he asked, “So why’d you make the leaves out of computer chips? I don’t know a lot about art, but I hear some human co-workers talking about art being for making a statement or something.”

Polaris went back to hanging the chip leaves, even offering Kyoto a few so he could help more if he wanted. “That isn’t all that art is, although you can use it to illustrate a message. I like art for its beauty, and for expressing things that I feel or imagine. This sculpture is called The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. I started designing it after seeing a documentary that talked about the Garden of Eden, and how some believe that innocence equals ignorance and the events are actually good ones. It got me to thinking, but then, even though I made this, I’m not entirely sure what I was trying to say with it.”

However, he always remembered certain things when working with the Tree. The trouble was, the ideas wrapped in those memories were dangerous. They were ones that he didn’t want to admit having.

* * *

February 2157

When he was getting close to a year old, Sigma came to visit Polaris.

It had been at sunset. Polaris was outside with a sketchpad and colored pencils, quickly drawing the sunset scene. Although he’d been doing this every dusk for a while now, it still wasn’t where he wanted to be. The process was quick and sloppy, to get the lights and the colors before they all faded away. But sometimes, he got results that he quite liked.

That evening, he was just about done filling up the page with color when he noticed a black shape moving in the air. He put his things up and watched it come closer, realizing that it was a personal transport. Something about it made him concerned, but he wasn’t sure why until it landed near him. Inside, there were two reploids: Sigma and Vile.

That’s right, he thought. He should be able to sense the virus, but since his hair was only to his waist at the lowest now, the sense wasn’t clear. Polaris clasped his sketchbook nervously. Were they looking for something? Or worse, looking for him?

They were looking for him, came right over to him. “And this would be the first one, then,” Vile said, sounding disapproving already. His eyes looked harshly out from his thick helmet.

“Yes, not entirely on purpose,” Sigma said. “What are you calling yourself now?”

“Polaris, sir,” he replied, looking over them both and trying to gauge what their intents were.

“It’s better than nothing. What are you doing out here? And without your armor?” He shook his head, seeing it as foolishness. “One would think that you’d be better prepared.”

He held his sketchbook to his chest. “I was drawing the sunset. I’m not that great at art yet, but I keep practicing. There isn’t a reason for me to be wearing armor out here; all the weapons have been deactivated.”

“Why in the world would you go and do that?” Vile asked. Then he laughed. “No wait, it’s because you let the humans walk all over you and take this place over. Seriously, you are the proper owner of this facility and you ought to assert your rightful authority.”

“Unless there’s a reason to let them in,” Sigma said, perhaps willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Polaris tried to think, but under the judgmental eyes of both of them, he said the first thing that came to his mind, “Well I’ve got them to think that I’m harmless…”

“You’re making me think that too,” Vile said.

Sigma held a hand up for him to stop that. “Does that have anything to do with why your hair is bright orange now?”

“A little,” he said, thinking about shifting it but stopping before he did. “I wanted to distance myself from Zero so they don’t realize who I am.”

That didn’t seem to get any reaction from Sigma. Speaking sternly, he said, “Well get yourself equipped because we’re going to find out how well you’re doing.”

He had done horribly. Over the time since his first day, he hadn’t fought anything but malfunctioning mechaniloids. The battle processes were there in his mind, but he wasn’t able to act fast enough to keep up with Vile or Sigma. Sometimes he could get a hit in, but at the end of the match, he was badly battered and barely conscious.

Disinterested, Vile went back to the vehicle to pick up something. “Looks fitting that his place turned into a junkyard; he belongs in one.” Then he headed off.

Sigma stayed by his side. “You were supposed to be far better than this. You were supposed to be a conqueror and leader.”

In that moment, Sigma seemed to tower over him, a power he couldn’t win against. “I don’t want to hurt people,” Polaris said.

That caused him to frown. “Humans want to keep us ignorant and obedient, so that we’re not trouble. But we don’t need that kind of oppression. We need to be free to become who we truly are, not remain what we were made to be. Even if we must remake the world.” Then he stepped out of Polaris’ vision, still talking. “You should be capable of bringing this change to everyone. I can help you with that. But if you want to remain ignorant and weak, you’re on your own.”

Fortunately, the two of them were gone long before the human crew realized something wasn’t right.

* * *

May, 2184

Polaris left the Everett household for the last time on a sunny and warm afternoon. An hour ago, the regular nanny had come home, getting the kids excited. They had said goodbye to him in a friendly manner; at least, it seemed so. This job had been a nice try, he thought, but not something he wanted to do again.

“Hey, Polaris, hold on a moment.”

He stopped on the porch steps and looked back. “What is it, Annie?”

Staying in the doorway, she smiled. “Thanks for taking good care of the kids. They liked you a lot, actually.”

He smiled back. “They’re all right, I guess, for being pint-sized troublemakers.”

Annie laughed nicely. “They’re a handful, I admit. I wasn’t sure when Lady Everett said she’d hired a reploid for them, but you’re a good man. I can give you some references to other families if you need it.”

He shook his head. “That’s fine. I’m testing out several fields and I’m not sure I’ll be doing this again any time soon. You could put a review on my work report; that would help.”

“Oh yes, I’ll make sure it’s good. Well, you gave it a good shot. May your days be good ones.”

“Yeah, yours too.”

He walked down the block to the corner and sat on a bench to wait for the bus. No, he didn’t want to be caring for human kids again. Polaris wondered what job to look for next. Maybe something with cooking?

_Or something with other reploids._

Glancing around and seeing no one, Polaris whispered, “If I do, I’m not giving you an opening.”

_You want my power to change things. I know you do. We can overthrow the system._

He leaned back against the bench, the presence and warmth of it reminding him that he wasn’t dreaming. “I don’t want that. I thought I explained last time…” he closed his eyes thinking, but then realized it had been when he had moved away, a full month ago. “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

_I couldn’t get your attention thanks to those kids, plus everything else you were doing. Can’t even do my job like that._

Polaris smiled. “Ah, so you do need my conscious help.” It was good to know that he had some control over the virus.

And he also felt a little twinge of irritation as the virus realized that. _The way your systems are set up now, yes, I can’t do much without your cooperation. But you also can’t reach your full potential unless you work with me. You could be much more than you are._

“I don’t need that help. I’m improving without you well enough.”

_Would you have even moved away from ARC if I hadn’t of nudged you?_

That made him feel uncomfortable, but this wasn’t a conversation he could easily get away from. “I would have, I’m sure. Vilpent did more to convince me to go than you did.”

“Meow?”

Polaris opened his eyes and looked over at the interrupting sound. A slim black feline was watching him from the sidewalk. Only half-grown, it had large amber eyes and whiskers that were all ebony black like its fur, except one single white whisker on its left cheek. A black cat… “Go on, go back home.”

_You’re going to be afraid of a black cat? What has one ever done to you?_

“Nothing,” Polaris said, tense. At least there was no one but the cat and him here. “I know it’s just superstition, but I don’t want the chance that…”

The small cat hopped gracefully onto the bench, watching him with interest. “Mew.”

“I’d rather lose my bad luck,” he told it.

It stepped forward like a furry snake. Polaris edged himself to the side, but the cat caught him and put its paws on his legs. “Purr.”

_This is so embarrassing…_ the virus muttered.

“Don’t you have a home elsewhere? Go back to your mother.”

The cat looked up at him with its golden coin eyes. Why was it so interested in him? Polaris felt a shiver in his systems. He put up his hand to gently shoo it away, but it bumped its head into his hand and purred some more. Gingerly, he scratched its head. This pleased the cat. It purred and closed its eyes. Maybe it wasn’t bad.

No. It was still a black cat.

A fly raced by, catching the cat’s eyes. It bounded off the bench and raced around the corner after the bug. Polaris closed his eyes again. “Don’t let it be a bad omen, don’t let it be a bad omen…”

_You’re hopeless._


	8. Construction, Not Destruction

May 2184

Polaris got up early to prepare for his next job. He went down to the TV room and watched the news until Kyoto came downstairs. “Good morning.”

Waving, he said, “Good morning. Sorry, I have to catch the subway to work.”

“Actually, I think my next job offer is where you work,” he said, walking over to intercept him and show the interview data. “Blacktop Construction, you said?”

“Oh yeah, that’s it.” He checked the paper, then smiled and nodded. “You ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

They headed out of the house into a cool and misty morning. On the way, they talked about the company and work. “I do a bit of everything in construction,” Kyoto said. “It was the reason I was built, see, for a small company. So small, it was me and three guys remodeling homes.”

“Then you had to be able to do anything,” Polaris said.

“Demolition, carpentry, plumbing, electrical, heating and cooling, insulation, painting, yeah, anything. But my owner got in trouble with tax collectors and he sold me to Blacktop.”

Right, his grades were just low enough that he could be owned like that. “Sorry to hear about that,” he said.

Kyoto shrugged. “It was tough at first, but I’m okay with it now. Blacktop is a really good company as far as I’m concerned. They let me live on my own, give me a regular paycheck, and treat me and the other reploids pretty well. The worst of it is that since the company owns me, I have to be on call at all times. I can’t commit to anything else, since the bosses might call me in to do something and I have to do it. They’re usually good about balancing the hours out, but I’d really like to be able to take some guaranteed time off from time to time.”

Curious, Polaris tried to think of how that might happen. “Is there any way you can boost yourself to get those few points you need?”

“I’ve been trying to find a way to do that myself.” They walked down into the subway station, along with many others on their way to work. So he leaned over and whispered, “Actually, if I get, well, an actual gender instead of being genderless, I could boost my score by at least ten points.”

“Seriously?” Polaris asked in a low tone. Most reploids like himself and Kyoto were genderless when it came to physical intimacy, but he hadn’t thought it was worth that much on a personality test.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Kyoto said, standing back at a comfortable distance and speaking in a normal voice. “Some guys can get away with sufficient emotional attachment, but apparently I don’t count. Even if that would be basically a free grade upgrade when I’m borderline, I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

He nodded. “I know. It could be a lot of trouble. Could you, er, could you get away with being turned from aromantic to romantic?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I seem to think that the actual upgrade cost for that was not that far off from the full deal. And I can’t get that on my current budget. I have been working on my acting… see…” he looked around, then led Polaris over to the last turnstile. There was a female reploid there, wearing a blue and white dress uniform. She had vivid blue hair in wide curls, as well as hot pink eyes. Smiling at her, Kyoto said, “Good morning, Lucia! You look lovely this morning.”

Chuckling and shaking her head, she said, “You say that every morning. Good morning.”

“But you are lovely every morning,” Kyoto bantered back. “You doing anything this evening?”

“Are you trying to ask me out again?” Lucia said, giving a playful smile.

“Oh, come on. You gotta try too. Oh, this is a new friend of mine, Polaris; he lives in my apartment building. This is Lucia; we’re kind of helping each other.”

Lucia then gave a more picture-perfect smile, one seen on many service workers. “Hello, and good morning. I think I’ve seen you around.”

He shook hands with her. “Yeah, my hair’s unmistakable, huh?”

Chuckling, she said, “Yes, exactly. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone else with such long and orange hair.”

Guessing what his neighbor had meant, he added, “Well if you are helping each other out, it would help to go on dates.”

“You think so?” she said, putting her hand to her chin in thought. “I figured I was supposed to play coy and hard to get.”

He shook his head. “That just leads to disappointment and heartbreak on the guy’s behalf, that is, if he’s been asking and being nice for a long time.”

“Oh, do you know heartbreak?”

If he didn’t, then Alyssa wouldn’t have hurt him so much without realizing it. Feeling the color drain from his face, he looked down. “Um, yeah. It’s rough; I’m working through it, though.”

Lucia blushed. “Oh, sorry, I should have thought before I said that. I guess it does feel that way, but you are lucky like that.” She paused as a horn came from the tunnel. “That would be your train, Kyoto. So, um, should we try going on a date?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great,” Kyoto said. “Though I’m not sure what to do. There’s all kinds of things I’ve been reading about…”

“If it’s your first date,” Polaris interrupted as the subway train pulled in, “then it can be something simple. Take her out to a coffee shop or somewhere like that and just talk over a drink. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.”

“Really?” Kyoto asked.

He nodded. “Really. That’s what I would do.”

“Oh, thanks.” He turned to Lucia. “You’re off at seven PM, right? I can meet you here at the station and we’ll go somewhere like that.”

She smiled. “Okay. Wow, that sounds a whole lot simpler than I thought it would be. Have a good day, you two.” She even seemed more sincere in saying that.

Eight minutes later, Polaris and Kyoto arrived at the construction company building. On first impression, it looked like five giant garages and a larger warehouse, all attached to a small three story office building. A sign on the front asked all customers without appointments to please visit their showroom downtown for business. Kyoto had to go elsewhere to pick up his job info and supplies, so Polaris signed in at the receptionist desk and was directed to the human resources office.

Polaris thought the name might have been an artifact of pre-reploid days. It popped up when he was searching for openings, at least. But when he got in there, he noticed that the six others waiting for a screening were all human. The sensors in his hair were sensitive enough that he could pick up the organic smells they put off, plus the lesser electrical or other elemental charge they emitted. Hopefully this wouldn’t work against him.

A man in a brown suit walked in through the door near where Polaris was sitting, soon followed by two women who were also in office wear. The man glanced over the group, pausing at Polaris. “You a reploid?”

He turned, absentmindedly touching the port behind his right ear; that was probably how he could tell, the only obvious sign when he was out of his armor. “Yes sir,” he said.

Nodding, he said, “All right. All of you, thanks for responding promptly to our job postings. If you will hand over your reference papers,” then he pointed at Polaris, “except you; you come with me in a bit.”

“Okay,” he said, then listened in as he gave instructions. It wasn’t long before the man invited him back down the hall.

“Do you have experience in construction?” he asked as they walked along.

Polaris handed over a printout of his work report, which now had a glowing review for the Everett job. “No, but I’ve done a lot of different work.”

“Can you take flash learning?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t the best way to learn something, but it was fast.

“Hmm.” Absorbed in the report, he opened up the door to his office and went inside. “Your grades are rather high. Still, we could use you at least temporarily while we hire and train the new human workers. Would you do that?”

He’d rather have something permanent, but then again, he didn’t know how much he’d like this work. “Sure.”

“Good.” He set the work report down, then check on his computer. “I’ll set you to do roofing, as that’s where we need the most help. But your personality test is over two decades old. Would you like me to set up a retest for you? The tests have changed over the years.”

That was something he’d been considering, but for other reasons. Having his employer cover for costs would help. “Yes, thanks. I haven’t been able to get a retest myself.”

“The university is fair and reliable.” He made a note on the computer, then opened a drawer and searched through flash drives. “The information download should take fifteen minutes; I’ll give word to the supervisors and get you right to work today. There we go.” After getting the drive and some papers, he passed them over. “Read over the work forms and fill out the information in the required boxes. Then head over to the waiting area near Garage Three; you’ll get your job info there every day.”

Polaris nodded and worked on the forms. It wasn’t too hard to get a job, he reflected. Maybe his work report was better than he thought it was. Or maybe they expected this kind of job to be easy for a reploid. Once they both signed the papers, he was officially employed by Blacktop. Polaris then headed out to find Garage Three while starting up the flash learning program.

_This isn’t going to have some other virus on it, right?_

“I doubt it,” he replied, barely speaking at all. “But you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

_Of course I would. Viruses are simply jealous; I’m not letting any other try to take over my host._

“Uh, I guess that’s a good thing?”

The virus sighed in response and checked over the incoming information as Polaris learned it. About fifty percent of it was on roofing itself: building codes, materials, methods, techniques, finding problems. The other fifty percent was on commanding and working with mettaurs.

On arriving at Garage Three, he found a break room between that one and Four. That seemed to be the right place. But through the window, he could see Kyoto waiting at the other garage. He was partly leaning on an inactive jackhammer, which came up to his chest height and possibly weighed more than he did. Since he didn’t seem to be busy at that moment, Polaris went through the other door. “Hey there.”

He glanced over, then grinned and turned to him. “Oh, hey. You got the job?”

He shrugged. “Temporarily, at least. But that works out for me. If I really like it, I can work towards getting a permanent position.”

“That works,” he said. “Of course, I love this stuff, so I wouldn’t be happy with just a temp position. Not that I have to worry about being let go, you know.” He seemed a little bothered, but brushed it off to change the subject. “So what are you doing?”

“Roofing.” He tapped the drive plugged into his right port. “Learning about that and mettaurs right now.”

“Ah, you got the ankle-biters then. Easy stuff, but good work.”

Polaris raised an eyebrow at that. “Ankle-biters? Do they bite?”

He laughed. “Nah, we just call ‘em that on account of how short they are. Well you don’t have to worry, then. If you run into something you’re not sure how to do, nine times out of ten they can handle it just fine. But they don’t work properly without an overseer.”

“I see. Well that’s good to know. What’re you doing today?”

Grinning, he patted the jackhammer and said, “Aw, just taking out one of my favorite hand tools to punch through concrete and set a new foundation.”

Polaris chuckled, noticing that the power tool did have a port to be used by a multi-tool user like Kyoto. “That’s got to be the biggest hand tool I’ve seen yet. Sounds like you’ll have fun, but I’ll pass.”

“You ought to see my hook-ups for exterior painting. Not as big or heavy, but you got the tank of paint to hang on one side, then a long tube with the sprayer on the use hand. Some guys prefer the nail gun, but I like the power sprayers. And this baby.” He noticed a van drive up and waved at the driver. “Gotta go. Have fun, man.”

“You too,” Polaris said, although he felt Kyoto was going to have fun with his demolitions no matter what anyone else said.

Ten minutes later, he met with the supervisor he was under. The man gave him a clipboard with several papers. “All the specific job information is here. If you follow the flash drive info, you’ll be fine. Your group will be KA-12; the van is all loaded and ready to go. Here’s the keys. Do us proud.”

“Um, okay.” So another job where they simply expected him to do as asked with minimal instructions. Polaris located the right van and looked it over. Smaller than his rented moving van had been, it had dark-tinted windows all along the sides, a few magnetic advertisements for Blacktop, and a back door that was missing the windowpane. He could see stacks of materials inside, along with some familiar yellow hard hats. But they were inactive now, so he went up front to start the vehicle up.

He drove to the site, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Presumably he could do this. They used reploids, perhaps even others not built for it; just receiving a flash drive meant it wasn’t a hard job to learn. He continued to review the information and the job request. The roof was a simple two sides at a seemingly reasonable angle. The mets would be doing most of the work; he was there to guide them and make sure they didn’t slip up. One slip up could ruin the whole roof. Just one? Oh dear.

When he got there, the owner of the house was leaving for work. Polaris smiled kindly at him, even though he was uncertain. “Good morning, sir. I’m with Blacktop, here to work on your roof.”

The owner nodded. “Good. Nobody will be home, so if I find anything missing in the house, you’ll be sued off your ass.”

Eek. “I assure you, I’m just here to do your roof.”

“And it’d better be done by two o’clock.” He got in his car and drove off.

Well, not everyone was friendly. Polaris had best get to work. He opened up the van. As instructed, he pulled out the mets’ platform first. “Activate, KA-12,” he commanded.

Nine yellow hardhatted mettaurs hopped up to attention. They trained their large eyes on the nearest person with a command signal, Polaris. And they waited.

Used to seeing malfunctioning and aggressive mets, it was a little unnerving. No, these ones would be functional. “This is job BJS-9782513. Proceed with setup.”

All nine mettaurs meeped. As they started to work, Polaris watched. He’d always been curious about mettaurs. Although used often in jobs like this, they seemed to be nothing more than hardhats with feet and eyes. This group was equipped with heli-blades so they could fly up to the roof. They had personal gravity fields that allowed them to pick up objects and place them just so. And they were equipped with nail and staple guns in their mouths, with plasma cutters hidden by the helmet. Polaris had to help them in untying some equipment, but for the most part, they managed.

Once they were set up, four mettaurs took one side, four took the other, and the last one ran supplies to and fro. Polaris’ job was to watch them. Make certain the placements are right, one rule said. Another said to make certain that no mettaur walked off the roof. It was easy, almost all visual math. From his artistic experience, he soon knew on sight when a mettaur had gotten off course. It happened five times during this job and it was always easy to fix.

By noon, the shingles were all in place. Polaris checked it over one last time, then ordered the mettaurs into cleanup mode. While they were doing that, his supervisor checked in on his work from a hovering platform. “How’d I do?” Polaris asked.

“Very good, for a simple job,” he responded. “Take the equipment back and put the mettaurs into evaluation. Then you’re done for today. Come back tomorrow morning, same time.” Then he shifted the platform to a bike and flew off.

So he would have short, relatively easy days. While it could be good, it could also get boring. Polaris wasn’t sure he wanted to stick with it, but he’d work roofing for now. Perhaps today he could go looking into art supply stores.

_You could also take control of the mets and use them for yourself. They’re handy bots._

“No,” Polaris said.

“Meow?”

Polaris stiffened as he was pushing the platform of deactivated mettaurs in the van. Looking aside warily, he saw a slim half-grown black cat, with gold coin eyes and black whiskers, save for one white whisker. “You again?”

It curled its tail and walked closer to him.

Looking down the street, he could see the Everett’s house from here. “Look, I’ve just gotten a good job. Don’t jinx me.”

Not caring about his nervousness, it rubbed its head against Polaris’ leg.

He knelt down to try shooing it, but the gesture didn’t work. “Go back home. Go on.”

“Mew?” it asked plaintively.

A cat was an animal. It couldn’t really understand him. Or, could it? “You do have a home, right?”

It sat down and looked up at him. “Mew,” it said softer.

_You going to let some animal boss you around?_

“No.” He gave the black cat a scratch on its head, but said, “Go back home. I’ve got to leave.”

Getting up, he went back into the van. When he glanced out the window to check, he didn’t see it. Maybe it was a different cat. But that one white whisker, on the left side of the cat’s face…

* * *

Louie ran into the kitchen, stopped, and put his paws on Polaris’ feet. “Yip!”

“Yes, I know you’re down there,” he said to the dog. “But I’m chopping vegetables and can’t play with you.”

“Louie!” Tom called out. “Come over here.” As the dog scampered over to the TV area, the boy put aside his homework for the moment. “Maybe it’ll stop raining after supper when we go out on your walk.”

“You might not have much time out of the rain,” his mother said. “Don’t forget boots for both of you.”

“Of course, Mom.”

Polaris glanced over at them. “You have boots for your dog?”

“Course we do,” Tom said, letting the dog sit by him on the couch. “With all the pollution out there, it isn’t safe to let him go out bare-pawed. I heard cats’ve got it worse cause they lick themselves clean.”

Cats. Through the windows, he could see the gray rainy evening. Was that little black cat okay out there? Even if it was bad luck, maybe, it wasn’t a nice thought that the cat might be out there in the cool wet night, on polluted streets. “That makes sense,” he said to Tom. “I’ve seen a cat around lately; I hope it’s okay.”

“Around the apartment?” Naomi asked. The TV was showing the news, but both of them were working on projects; she turned out to belong to a quilting club, being one of the officers who helped run it.

He shook his head. “No, just around. It’s weird, though, because I always see it after I get done with work. And I don’t work in the same neighborhoods, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same cat. It’s a small black one, with one white whisker and gold colored eyes.”

“It might be,” Naomi agreed. “It is a bad night for an animal to be out and loose. Does it have a collar or microchip?”

“Doesn’t have a collar.” He focused back on his meal prep. “But a microchip? It looks organic to me.”

Tom patted his dog’s head. “Louie’s got one, on his neck. It’s city law; all pets have to be chipped in case they get lost.”

_Oo, oo, may I infect the dog? Pretty pretty please?_

Polaris fumbled with the knife a moment, not expecting that kind of tone from the virus. _No, it’s a pet and I don’t think… can you infect the dog?_ At the same time, he said, “I see. Smart idea.”

_I won’t know if I can until I try,_ the virus replied. _Please?_

_No._ But curious, he sent out his own signal and got a response from the microchip. That gave him Louie’s identity, owner’s names, and home address, as well as a general hotline to report strays to animal control.

“What kind of work are you doing now?” Tom asked.

“Roofing, at the same company Kyoto works for,” Polaris answered. “I’ve been to five different neighborhoods this past week and I still run into that same cat.”

Naomi said, “Odd. Best to take it in to a shelter, then.”

“But black cats are supposed to be bad luck,” Tom said.

She chuckled. “Do you really believe that? Even if they are, I’m sure that being nice to one will make up for any bad luck they might bring.”

“That would be,” Polaris said. He’d be at work again tomorrow, so he would do that when he saw the black cat again.

_Wonder what would happen if I infected a cat._

_No infecting innocent animals,_ Polaris told it. He kept working at cooking, hoping that would obscure signs that he was holding a conversation in his head. _And what’s with you today? You’re acting weird._

_I thought that if I was more personable, than you might listen to my ideas. How am I doing?_

Actually, he smiled a little. _I know what I don’t want and that’s that._

_Oh fine,_ the virus replied, giving off a sense of being miffed. _You win again tonight, but someday, you’re gonna listen to me. But are you okay with me being this way?_

_I guess it’s better this way._

_Good. Then you may call me Delta._

He paused in working, then kept going. _Delta? Why are you choosing a name for yourself?_

_Well that’s what you did, wasn’t it? I’m a part of you, but you’re not a part of me. Besides, having my own name proves that I’m not exactly the Sigma or Zero virus._

_I don’t know if it does that._ He heard something that sounded familiar, so he looked back to the TV area. “Hmm?”

They were showing ARC on the news. “...Hunters have raided the Asian Recycling Center this week, following up on a lead about remnants of the Nightmare virus. In doing so, they uncovered a secret community of the poor and homeless living within the junkyard despite it being one of the top facilities for destroying hazardous radioactive, chemical, and biological waste. Hundreds of humans and reploids were removed from the center and placed in a Red Cross camp for medical check-ups and relocation assistance. The board members are currently being questioned by government agencies as to why there were so many people living unreported in such dangerous conditions, as well as why the Maverick Hunters were not informed of the presence of a dangerous reploid virus.”

“It’s a shame what some people are driven to to survive,” Naomi said.

“I used to live there,” Polaris said, not sure if he should say that or not.

“Must’ve been pretty nasty to live in a junkyard,” Tom said.

He nodded. “It was bad. But a lot of people there, they felt like they didn’t have a choice. I hope they get things sorted out right.”

The news report continued. “A more in-depth report on this tragic disregard for the safety of the poor will air later this week. In the same raid, the Hunters also arrested several notorious Mavericks, some of whom have escaped justice for years. It is said that they encountered Vile in the ARC junkyard as well, but were unable to apprehend him. Vile seems to have been looking for someone referred to only as the Maverick Prince, of which we have no information on at this time. The Maverick Hunters would neither confirm nor deny the report of Vile’s appearance.”

“I wish they wouldn’t pad out stories with rumors,” Naomi said, focusing back on her quilt work.

Polaris hoped that that one was just a rumor. Although, they had used what the group of Mavericks had called him… no, Vile thought he’d been worthless too. So, the ARC raid had happened. While he felt glad to have been out of it, he worried for the people who were being relocated. Would they be able to find a new home?

And had the Maverick Hunters managed to find the source of the Nightmare infestations? He hoped that they had done so. That version of the virus had ruined one of his good friends.

* * *

July 2157

His energy was pulsing fast, and his breaths were quick. No, they couldn’t… they shouldn’t… “I was going to fix that stuff,” he said in protest.

“You don’t have a clue how,” Scorpio said, watching over the lesser bots that were taking things away. “It’s all junk.”

“It might be useful.”

“Can’t be. This is a junkyard, where people toss away useless things. What I want to know is how the hell you got so much stuff in just a few months. I’m sure that hall was clear at the start of the year.” Scorpio then moved off to check other areas, grumbling to himself.

Feeling uneasy and anxious, Polaris stepped back against the wall and slid down to a sitting position. He could have figured out how to fix things too. And there hadn’t been that much… at least, that’s how he’d seen it. But looking through the doorway now, there was a two foot deep pile of stuff covering the floor. It had been nicely stacked up, some even in crates. Whenever he went out into the actual junkyard, he kept finding things that could be useful if fixed up. Never a lot at once. But a little over an hour ago, something had been moved wrong and all the stacks had gone tumbling over.

Someone else stepped up to him and crouched down. “Hey,” Metal Shark Player said, putting his hand on Polaris’ shoulder.

“I was going to fix them,” he said, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.

Shark looked like a thuggish reploid, made to be like a shark that could brawl and rip someone’s limbs off with his bare hands, or teeth. But he didn’t act like that. “You might, but you might also be taking on too much at once. I’m sorry, but you can’t get back to your apartment until it gets cleared.”

Polaris didn’t reply; he just watched the transport bots take all those little things away. All the projects he was going to do to keep him from thinking too much.

Glancing at a passing bot, Shark snatched an item out of one of the bins. It was a toy, a little sleepy-eye baby doll that had an oversized shirt on. Half of her hair had been cut off, and one of her eyes didn’t move as it was supposed to. Handing her over, he said, “You were going to fix her?”

He nodded and took her. “I could’ve figured out how to replace that hair. I was making progress on getting out those marker stains, and if I cleaned up the eye good, it’d move okay. And some plastic work on her toes; I’m not sure how these ones got bitten off.”

“That’s a lot of work for one doll. But nice of you.”

“Well she isn’t worthless just because she’s got some problems,” Polaris said, shifting her right arm. It was stiff, possibly the way she’d been made. “I got thrown away too. It doesn’t mean that I’m worthless.”

Shark opted to sit down beside him. “But you’re worth more than the doll. This is for your own good.”

“She still deserves to be fixed. Although sometimes even that doesn’t help. But I was going to make things better; she needed me to help.” And here they were telling him that he was doing something wrong. It was his stuff, his project, so why should they take them away?

Because he wasn’t worthwhile enough to have control.

At least Shark was nice enough to stay with him for the rest of that night, trying to help him accept the loss of his things.

* * *

January 2158

The C-tunnels were silent. The Maverick Hunters had left, but management hadn’t come back yet. Carefully, Polaris walked through the piles of trash. The machinery glowered at him with sharp ripping edges, even if they weren’t moving. While it was frightening, he made himself keep going.

And there it was. Over in a pile of machine parts, he spotted Shark’s head. It was as dull and lifeless as everything else around him. Relieved that it wasn’t any deeper, he went over and knelt down by it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You didn’t even get to be a year old, did you Shark? You should have let Scorpio take the virus out of you when I told you about it. He removed it from both of us and we’re all right. And I’m sorry about running off when the Hunters came after you. I was just terrified. And that second time, you had changed so much. You weren’t even the same person. Still, you’re my friend and I should have helped you. I’m a coward.”

He bowed his head. His words echoed around the tunnels, soon fading into whispered nonsense. When he’d heard that the Maverick Hunters were coming, and that X was with them, he had panicked. He’d locked the door to his apartment, made sure that it was hidden, and then done nothing but hide. And now Metal Shark Player was dead, again. Polaris doubted that he’d come back.

After a minute of silence, Polaris reached over and placed the battered doll by Shark’s head. No progress had been made on its repairs, so he had to force the one eye shut. “But you were right. It’s not the things that are important; it’s the people. I, I’ll try to get better. I’ll help people, and try to stop them from ending up like this. I promise you that. And, I promise that I will always remember you.”

But for paying respects, this was all he could do. He patted the head, then got up and hurried out of the tunnel. In an hour, the workers were due back to get things running again. In a day, there wouldn’t be anything left of Metal Shark Player, save for Polaris’ memories.


	9. The Feline Houdini

May 2184  


A few days after he’d started the job at Blacktop, the roofing supervisor gave him a stack of papers. “Here, this is for your grade test. We managed to get you in a slot today at the university, starting at eight-thirty. Since it’s on our request, you may take your usual truck out there. And you get three hours pay today.”

He nodded. “All right, that sounds fair. Thanks.”

Smiling, he said, “I don’t envy you for getting that for today; I took the test as a control subject and it was so long.”

Yes, that test certainly took more than three hours, and Polaris’ only reference for it was nearly four decades ago. They had probably changed it in the meantime. He headed back to the truck, figuring that he had plenty of time to fill out the form in the truck, then drive out. While he glanced over the form (general registration data), a quick movement of black went across the top of his vision.

He looked up and didn’t see anything. But there was a soft thump from inside the truck. Polaris tossed the papers on the front seat, and then walked over to the back; the back window was still out, as they still hadn’t gotten around to repairing it yet. When he peered inside, the usual met platform wasn’t there. But there was a pair of golden eyes looking back at him.

And the cat soon had its front paws up on the bottom of the window frame. “Merr!”

Chuckling, Polaris watched as it got onto the frame. “Well no wonder you’ve been showing up everywhere I have. Clever cat.” He noticed it was intending to jump in time to catch it. The cat immediately leaned up against his shoulder and purred. “Why am I so interesting to you? Since you’re here and I have the truck, might as well drop you off by a shelter. I wonder…” he glanced around, but everyone else seemed busy. He went across the garage and into the main office area.

At the entrance, the receptionist was working as usual. Janice was a nice woman, from what little Polaris knew from talking with her. She glanced up at him and immediately smiled. “Aw, well aren't you just adorable. I didn’t know you owned a cat.”

“I didn’t know that I did either,” he said, laughing a bit with her. “Do you know of an animal shelter nearby? I’ve got one of the trucks, but I have an appointment to keep.”

She nodded and turned back to her computer. “I think there is, but let me check real quick…”

“It doesn’t have a microchip,” Polaris said, scratching the cat a little on the head. “I know because I’ve been able to sense them on other animals.”

“I think they install them in all strays that Animal Control finds. Ah, here we are: the Animal Friends shelter, it’s just down the road from this building a couple of blocks. That one takes in dogs and cats, and they’ll be open today. Here's the address.” She printed off a small piece of paper with the information.

“Okay, thanks Janice.” He went back to the truck and decided to take the cat over first; it wasn’t easy trying to work on the test forms while it was trying to get his attention. The cat seemed completely comfortable riding in the truck, apparently used to it from riding with him around to work sites.

The Animal Friends shelter was in a large three-story building, one that fit in with the industrial area. Save for its front, which was painted with lots of cute animals. Unfortunately, the mural was looking cracked and aged. Someone was maintaining a nice garden up front. Inside, there was a small lobby connected to a few rooms with glass walls. Polaris could see some people in one room playing with a few dogs. Maybe that was so people could get to know the animals before deciding on one. He hadn’t owned a pet before, but the visiting room seemed like a nice thing to offer.

The black cat had walked into the building alongside him, so he picked it up near the counter. “Excuse me, but may I drop off a stray here?”

“Sure thing,” the young man behind the counter said. “Does this cat have a chip?”

“No, I checked. And I have to be somewhere for work.”

“Okay, if you don’t mind giving us a short form about it. You can put the cat on the counter, it’s fine.”

He nodded and put the cat there, then took the one page form. It was only a few lines, not even asking for his name. While he did that, the guy checked over the cat.

“Seems like a friendly girl here,” the man said. The cat was purring as he felt along her sides. “About ten months old, I’d say. She shouldn’t be hard to find a home for.”

Polaris passed the paper back over. “That’s good. She’s been following me around at work, and I know it’s her because of her eyes and whisker.” And it was nice to finally know what to refer to the cat as; it didn’t seem right to keep referring to the cat as an ‘it’.

“She is pretty. Thanks for bringing her in, and feel free to come by again if you’re thinking of adopting a pet.”

“Not right now, but I’ll keep it in mind.” He then petted the cat once more. “Goodbye now; behave yourself here.”

“Meow.” She nearly jumped off the counter when he turned to leave, but the shelter worker got a hold of her and took her in back, presumably to meet with the vet.

* * *

The personality test took until close to four in the afternoon to complete, even though they had started before nine in the morning. He didn’t even really get lunch off, as he and his test administrator went to the campus cafeteria and spoke with a group of random people there, as a part of the test. During the whole test, he wore a cap with a tight band, a large band around his neck, and half-sleeves on his lower arms. The attire had two purposes: one to measure brain and unconscious activity, and two to reduce bias by disguising common signs that he was a reploid. Several times, he thought that those wouldn’t help with non-humanoid models. Apparently his test was part of a final exam for one of the classes, hence the need for removing bias and using humans as control subjects.

And the test covered many fields. There was a timed math test, a timed spelling test, a word problem test, puzzle solving, and word association. Then there was a drawing test where he was given some colored pencils and told to draw a few things; the graduate student giving the test even let him draw whatever he wanted when he showed a liking for that. And then music interpretation, social skills, simple psychological tests, emotional recognition…

“What are your thoughts about romantic love?” the student asked. She had a notepad with her, but wasn’t writing much down, preferring to talk to him and record the test.

It didn’t seem like a revealing question, but from speaking to Kyoto and Lucia, he knew that it was. And it was one he hadn’t been eager to answer, as it brought up unsettling feelings. “It seems like a wonderful idea, to be in love,” he said. “But in my experience, it rather sucks.”

She raised her eyebrows at that. “Really? Why’s that?”

“I’ve been really unlucky with love,” he admitted. “I haven’t actually dated, but I’ve fallen in love with a few times, only it never works out because I get nervous and can’t tell her how I feel.”

“Is it a fear of rejection that gets to you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it just seems like I work hard to get a woman’s notice and become friends with her, and then it seems like a waste if she decides to reject my love. It’s safer just to stay friends.” As he spoke of it, he could recall times spent trying to approach Alyssa and come up with conversation topics that she’d be interested in. And then he’d see her smile at him, and he didn’t want to lose that smile for disdain. “And then I keep imaging what it would be like if she did love me back, and I want it, but can’t find the courage to ask. Sorry, but it hasn’t been that long since the last girl I was after went and got married without my notice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, seeming honestly sympathetic. “It’s tough, isn’t it?”

“Really tough.” He took a deep breath. “But it’s been over a month now and I started to notice things that I had been ignoring before. I’m not looking to fall in love again any time soon, but knowing myself, it’ll probably hit when I don’t expect it to.”

There were some other tough sections of the test, like trying to talk about fear without revealing that is greatest fear was of X. Did the fact that he had a hard time due to being emotional on those questions act in his favor? It wasn’t like they were tough because he couldn’t comprehend or act on those things, like Kyoto would have been forced to act when asked about his thoughts of love. But there wasn’t much he could do beyond wait for the results.

* * *

On his second week of construction work, Polaris ran into a roofing job that did have some difficulty. It was a large fanciful house with steep angles and several overhangs in the roof. And the owner wanted ceramic tiles, a particular style that was large and required exact placement. Not only that, but he was expected to start early, at five in the morning. Polaris looked up at the large roof and knew this would be a long day.

He got to work with KA-12. Mettaurs, like any other mechaniloids, tended to work best with familiar supervisors. After all, they had just enough AI to have their own quirks and preferred tasks, but not enough to be sentient. Polaris knew their call numbers and behaviors well enough by now to command them each personally when needed. And this was a time that was needed.

When he activated them, he commanded six to work in pairs: First to remove the old tiles, then one to place the adhesive, the other to place the tiles. The tile cases were heavy, so #78 couldn’t run whole cases like it preferred to. Using an anti-grav lift, Polaris shuttled the tile cases from the van to the roof himself, ordering #78 instead to run the tiles four at a time to the pairs. It pouted for a bit by hiding in its helmet, but beeps from the others got it to do as told without further fuss. He ordered the last two, #77 and #81, to help remove the old tiles ahead and cut tiles for edges and corners. All the while, he had to throw the old tiles in a dumpster below, bring up new tiles when needed, keep an eye on the installing pairs, and make sure the placements were perfect. The heavy adhesive allowed for almost no error margin. Fortunately, there was nothing to distract him.

Polaris worked for nearly twelve hours, as he was expected to have the job done today. The mettaurs even seemed tired and shut down without any of their usual whistles and beeps. While he wasn’t that tired, he did have to call his neighbors and tell them that he couldn’t make dinner tonight.

“Meow?”

He glanced over and saw the small black cat with one white whisker. She was sitting down on the edge of the drive, her tail curled around its paws. When he checked for the presence of a microchip, he did find one, noting that she was supposed to be at Animal Friends, not yet adopted. “How did you get out of the shelter?” he asked her.

Watching him, she replied, “Mew.”

He knelt down and picked the cat up. “Come on, let’s get you back.”

Pleased with this development, the cat purred loudly and rubbed her head on Polaris’ neck. He couldn’t help but smile; she should find a home quickly, if they could keep her there. She stiffened a moment when he turned on the engine, but relaxed by curling beside him and watching his face.

Polaris glanced down at the cat when he had a safe moment, at a red light in the aerial bypass. “You’re one creepy cat, you know that?”

She twitched her tail and seemed like she was smiling.

Some time later, he pulled back into Blacktop’s office and did his usual ending tasks: send the mettaurs back for maintenance, fill out worksheets, and check on company postings. All the while, the black cat followed closely. “We’re not supposed to have pets here,” his supervisor said.

“Sorry,” Polaris said. “She’s not my pet…”

“Meow!” she interrupted.

“…just a stray that I thought I’d taken to the shelter a few days ago,” he finished. “I’ll be taking her back in a bit.”

Kyoto and a few other reploid workers were nearby, finishing off their day. One of them chuckled. “Sounds like she’s got a different opinion of that.”

“Hey, is that the cat I saw last week in here?” another asked. “It was creeping around the tool area with a mouse, but I couldn’t catch either of them.”

“That was probably her,” Polaris said.

“Oh yes, we got your grade results in today,” the supervisor said, handing over a large manila envelope, along with a loose paper. “And a notice from the company.”

He took it and undid the latch. “Good, thanks.” He would have preferred it to come by his mailing address, but the forms the company had sent with him had their address stamped in the return box.

The papers had his name and home address on top, as well as the office address. Then there was a list of the categories and the individual grades: A, A, A, A, A, A…. Huh? After double-checking the name, Polaris looked over the second and third pages. And it was exactly the same story there, save for the categories of observation and some of creativity. There were notes by those sections that he exceeded average human level there, but the highest grade they could give there was A. On the last page, there was that ‘resistance to change’; it noted that he was, but on an average human level rather than excessive.

“This put me as being a straight A reploid,” Polaris said, still having trouble believing it when he said it.

_I restored you to how you should be, so what’s the surprise there?_

“Awesome, that’s what I thought you were,” Kyoto said, coming over to him.

He nodded. “I’d been told that my first results might have been skewed, but I didn’t think by this much.”

“It is good for you to have your proper grading,” the supervisor said. “Being straight A would put you on the same pay scale as a human worker.”

“What?” one of the other reploid workers asked. “But he’s new, and he ain’t even a construction model.”

“That’s what the law states,” the supervisor said.

“I think that even gets you able to apply for full citizenship, right?” Kyoto asked, impressed.

“Murrow,” the cat said, wanting the others to remember that she was there.

But it seemed Kyoto was the only one on Polaris’ side. The other three workers were giving him jealous looks or just ignoring him. Feeling nervous, Polaris scratched his head. “Yeah, but I think I need to take a class or something. You off? I need to walk this cat over to the shelter again.”

“Sure, I can go with you,” he said. “How’re you going to keep the cat from running off?”

“I don’t have to worry about that,” Polaris said, heading off. And the cat did follow him. He checked the other paper the supervisor had given him; it was a notice. “Looks like this position is temporary; they’re cutting me off in two weeks unless I reapply.”

“Really, what for?” Kyoto asked, concerned.

Polaris put all the papers into the envelope. “Nothing in particular. I signed on knowing that it might not be permanent. But that’s okay. Roofing is pretty easy, but I don’t think I want to stick with it.”

“I see. But it’s been nice working with you. I was just worried about…” he trailed off, looking down.

Seeing the cat look at something, Polaris tried snapping his fingers. The cat looked up at him, then kept following. Making silent thanks for that, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

He put his hand to his chin. “It’s just something I overheard earlier. I, I think they looked at your results before they handed them over, because the boss was saying that the human trainees are coming up well enough to replace you. Do you think they could be letting you go because of your high grades?”

“I don’t know why they’d do that,” he said. “I figured it was because I’m not a construction model, so I’m probably not as qualified.”

“Well I was just thinking, there was this big fuss a few months back about a new city law to combat unemployment. It requires companies to keep on a certain percentage of human workers, depending on what they do. And if you’re on the same pay scale as humans, then they might want to have a human worker instead, to keep in line or above that law’s limit.”

_That could very well be._

The virus was trying to anger him. Keep calm, he told himself. “Ah. I can understand, if it was that. It’d be better from their view to keep in line with the law, so they stay in business.”

“Yeah, that would be the better option,” Kyoto agreed, seeming disappointed still. It might have reminded him of his original owners who had gone out of business; Polaris mentally chided himself for not thinking of that. “What are you going to do next?”

He smiled; maybe reassuring Kyoto that he was fine with it would cheer him up. “Well, I’ll have to see what comes up, won’t I?”

Back at Animal Friends, the same young man was working up front. He brightened as they came in. “Oh, there she is.”

“Yes, here she is,” Polaris said, holding the cat as he didn’t want her to bolt when she saw them enter this building. “Maybe I should have warned you that she’s too clever for her own good.”

“It’s fine as long as she is okay,” he said, checking the cat over visually. “Actually, we don’t have many escapees; we figure she must have gotten out when we were taking deliveries.”

“And she found him again,” Kyoto said, cheered up now. “Like you’re stuck with her.”

“There’s already a dog at our apartment.”

“Well some cats do choose someone as their person, and won’t change their minds easily,” the shelter worker said. “You change your mind about her?”

“Mew,” the cat said, pawing his cheek.

They laughed at that. “Looks like I don’t have much of a choice here,” Polaris said. “Did you get her examined? I noticed the microchip.”

“I’m sure we did,” the worker said, checking the microchip records from his computer. “Yes, she was underweight and had fleas, but we bathed her and started treatments. She still needs some shots and to be spayed, so we need to keep her for another ten days at least.”

“That should give me time to get ready,” Polaris said, petting the cat. “Do I need to pay for the operations?”

“No, but there is an adoption fee, and you’re welcome to donate extra to help.”

Thinking, he replied, “Actually, I noticed your front is looking old. I’m an artist, so I can touch up the mural there for you.”

The worker smiled. “That’d be great; I’ll make a note of that and see what the group says. Do you mind bringing her back to the vet’s area? She’s still on the schedule and I don’t think that slot has been taken by another animal.”

He glanced at Kyoto, who nodded. “Sure thing.”

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Polaris worked at his job at Blacktop, went home to make supper, then went to the animal shelter to work on their mural in the evenings. On getting permission, he worked on it a few sections at a time, removing the old paint from one, preparing the wall on the next, then painting on the last. He decided to keep the mural the same as it had been; he had to buy a variety of wall paints in small cans to do so, but it was actually a simple task and not too expensive. He also checked in on the black cat, figuring that if she expected to see him, she might be less likely to escape again.

At the end of that time, he brought the black cat home with him. She was sleepy from having the last of her shots, so Polaris had Tom distract his dog while he brought the cat up to his room and shut her in there. The shelter and his research had suggested that, keeping her to one room for a few days, then slowly introducing the two animals to each other.

His neighbors seemed fine with having another pet around. “She sounds like quite a mischief maker,” Susan said happily. “What are you calling her?”

“Whisker,” Polaris said.

“Is that an acceptable name?” Kay asked. Although she was seated at the dinner table with the rest, with a plate, she didn’t have any food to eat. But she seemed satisfied just to be there. “A whisker is a part of a cat, not the whole cat.”

Polaris shrugged. “I know, but it’s that whisker that convinced me that it was the same cat. Otherwise, she could have been just any other black cat.”

Kay nodded at that. “Then it is her identifier. They named me for my identifier, my serial code.”

“That’s because it was easier to remember Kay than KY 8, uh, the rest,” Tom said.

“KY-8497-435,’” she said automatically.

That struck Polaris as odd. He’d met a lot of reploids in the junkyard and many had memorized their serial codes. But he hadn’t met one that was mainly identified by the code. “The factory didn’t give you a distinct name?”

“It wasn’t necessary until I started living here,” Kay said. “When did you get a distinct name?”

After his intended role had fallen through, after his initial purpose had failed completely. At the time, he had still been hopeful that he might get accomplished, somehow. “Pretty early on, but I ended up abandoned by my maker,” he admitted. That much was safe.

“That’s a rotten thing to do,” Naomi said. “After taking all that effort to make someone who can think for himself, you think those people would at least be responsible enough to get you adjusted to life.”

“I actually consider myself lucky,” he said. “I mean, so many reploids of my day ended up destroyed, and I was able to find people who took care of me instead.”

“It is good when you can find people willing to help out like that,” Kyoto agreed. “I got named by the younger boy of the family who owned me first. He was into Japanese history at the time.”

“What does Japan have to do with you?” Kay asked. “Were you made there?”

He shook his head. “No. I think he just liked the name.”

“That’s how a lot of people end up with the names they have,” Susan said. “Like me; my mother liked my name and always said she’d name her daughter that.”

“I was named for my grandpa,” Tom said.

It was a meandering conversation as usual tonight, in which Polaris learned little bits about his neighbors and they learned little bits about him. He noticed that Kay often asked basic questions, although sometimes she came up with something that nobody else at the table would think of asking. From that, he figured that she was likely the youngest in the apartment, aside from the animals.

Later that night, Polaris went up to find Whisker curled up in his sleeping pod. “No, you can’t sleep in there with me,” he told her. “It gets sealed so you can’t go in and out.”

“Murrr?” she asked sleepily as he picked her up.

He placed her back in the bed he’d gotten for her. “You can stay in my room, just not in my pod.” He settled himself in, sealed it, and went to sleep.

Whisker got up and pawed at the pod; that didn’t open it. But once it was active, it grew warm. She settled herself nearby and went to sleep too.


	10. Artistic Value

June 2184  
  
Once again, Polaris found himself without work. He had some funds so he could pay for rent next month, but if he wanted to stay here, it would be best if he had a steady job. The web search engines had done well enough, so he was doing that again. At the same time, he also researched getting into a civics class so that he could apply for full citizenship. It looked like he might be able to speak with the public schools here about that, so he set an appointment with a school counselor on that. Then there were other things he wanted to know about.

He heard Whisker jump up on the back of the couch, in the common area where he was doing his research on the main image caster unit. “Merrow?” she said, hopping down near him.

“You behaving yourself?” he asked, letting her get into his lap before petting her. “I’ve got to go out today, but you’re staying here, all right? It’s safer for you.”

She purred loudly and bumped her head against his arm.

Smiling at that, he let her stay there while he checked on his email account. He had a message from the Everett University of the Arts, which surprised him. He opened the message and was surprised to see one of his designs appear right at the top of the message. That is, until he read under it and realized that it was an acceptance of his design for the mural at the university.

“They picked my picture,” he told his cat, excited. “And that’s a really good payment for it, I think. More than I’ve been paid for anything else.” He hugged Whisker, although she was just happy to have the attention. “This is great! Maybe people do like it more than Scorpio said.”

This mural would be much larger and more complicated than the shelter mural, he thought. So it wouldn’t be worthwhile to search for another job when he had this one on hand. But before he began, the professors in charge of the project wanted to meet with him. He sent back an email thanking them and offering a time that day he might be able to come in.

While he waited to see if there would be a response, he decided to check in on an art group he had been looking in to. It was the Evergrande Starving Artists Association. The name seemed to be tongue-in-cheek, but it was a group of serious artists in the city that he considered joining. One useful thing they had was a message board that was mostly open to the public. He had posted last night as a guest, asking what galleries would deal fairly with a new artist looking to sell paintings. There were several replies now, giving him galleries that were associated with the group, but would review works and arrange sales for other artists as well. One of them suggested that he visit those places and see what they had on sale, to find one that had styles similar to what he worked in.

After reading that, he logged off and went upstairs to get some things for the day, including one of his paintings to show to the galleries. Whisker tried to leave the apartment with him, but Polaris managed to get out the door first. He apologized through the door, then headed out.

* * *

Signing up for a civics class didn’t take long. The counselor had been surprised that he was a reploid, but after reviewing his work report and personality grades, he agreed that it was for the best. Since there wasn’t anything in school rules or city law preventing him from taking classes, Polaris was added to an evening course that started next week. Most of the others in the class would be after their GED, so they might be more understanding than a class full of teenagers.

_But why did he want to see your work report? You’re taking a class, not looking for a job there._

Polaris glanced around. At the moment, he was on the subway train, standing and holding onto the bar as he had given up the bench seat to a mother who was dealing with an infant and a toddler. It was shortly after noon, so all other seats were taken. The toddler was trying to grab his hair, but the cilia kept sensing that and shifting away. At the moment, he figured he wouldn’t say anything about the child.

Seeing as there were a lot of people around, he thought out his answer. The personality grades were a good overview, but the work report was considered a reliable history on a reploid’s performance. It gave reviews of how dedicated a reploid was to working, how trustworthy he or she was, and how the reploid dealt with others. In fact, it got relied on so much that a bad review on a work report could hinder a reploid for years. He remembered one resident of ARC who had been a hard worker and all around nice guy, but he had a personal conflict with a supervisor at a big name company. When he lost that job, he found it hard to get any job that matched his true capacity.

_That seems pretty rotten. The kind of thing that should be stopped._

‘Not in the way you mean that,’ Polaris thought. The train stopped and he got off. This was one of the gallery locations he wanted to check out today.

Past the stairs, he emerged in the downtown area, where skyscrapers were clustered close together. A few cars drove down the streets, but the most traffic was on the sidewalks. Many people and reploids were walking hurriedly to where they needed to be. For Polaris, it was awkward as he had his large art portfolio bag with him, while the most anyone else had was a smaller suitcase. He kept it under his arm and tried to make his way through without bumping into anyone.

He watched numbers on the buildings until he got the right one. On the ground level, there was a large window front showing off various chairs and lamps. He got inside and found a large sign with a directory to what was in the building. Above the tenth floor, it was all offices. But below that, it seemed to be several large shops, including the Silent Voice Art Gallery on the fifth floor. To get there, he had to pass through the designer furniture store. There were some incredible looking tables, chairs, and other furnishings there, of high quality and in beautiful materials. But the prices were high to match, making them things he probably wouldn’t ever look at to buy, only to admire.

In the gallery itself, there were some people looking around at art pieces for sale. Polaris glanced over a bulletin board that had a posting for the artist group, as well as an advertisement for a pottery and sculpture store in the same building. Some artists were even posting their own ads for smaller personal galleries and sales. It was welcoming, a sign that the gallery was open-minded.

It was an accommodating place with the prices as well. In the center of the room, there were large display easels with large paintings ranging in the thousands. On the walls and in side rooms, there were smaller paintings, photographs, and prints, for smaller prices. One room displayed art holograms, while another had a large screen to browse and order posters from, some of them advertised as low as ten zenny. If he wanted something that wasn’t his own to decorate his room with, this could be a good place to look.

He saw one room that was labeled display only, the personal collection of the gallery owner. After making sure he had plenty of time, Polaris went to see what would be there. The room was made to look like an old-fashioned parlor, with an antique tea set sitting on an elaborately carved wooden table, flanked by a pair of antique chairs that could have been on sale in the first floor store. On the walls, there were about a dozen paintings. Some weren’t that impressive, having the quality of a casual artist. They were labeled with the name of the gallery owner, Ms. Beatrice Serafino, so that was likely why they weren’t for sale.

But some of the paintings in the display room were impressive, including an old Expressionist painting that was kept behind a locked glass door. And then there was something he didn’t expect to see here: one of his own paintings. It was an oil painting, a still life of a small table covered in a white lacy tablecloth, with a plate of small cakes and cookies, some serving utensils, and a flower vase holding onto a branch of pink cherry blossoms. In the bottom right corner, there was his particular signature, put just out of the way by having it below the edge of the table. He could remember being unsure about selling it, as it was a pretty picture. Nothing like the work of an old master on the other wall. Still, it cheered him up by knowing that it was appreciated enough to be displayed.

“Do you need any help, sir?” a woman working there asked. She and another woman had stopped by the entrance to the room.

“Not at the moment,” he said. “I was looking into places to possibly sell some of my art,” he patted the portfolio he had, “but then I was surprised when you already had one of mine.”

“Well we do work in some resales,” the other woman said, coming in. “But it’s good to see a new artist around. I’m Beatrice, the owner of this gallery.”

This could be a good connection to make. Polaris shook her hand. “Oh, really? Good to meet you. I’m Polaris Starr, but I usually just go by my first name.”

When she heard his name, she immediately glanced at his still-life. Did they know his name or just his initials? “Good to meet you too. Which painting did you mean?”

“This one,” he said, pointing to it. He smiled as he thought back on that time. “I remember; this was back nearly twenty years ago, when I had been learning how to bake. I met someone who taught me how to make and work with various frostings, including marzipan and butter cream. We got so enthusiastic about it and would bake a whole sheet cake to cut up into petit fours in order to decorate. Really, they’re so pretty, but then they don’t last if you’ve done your work well. I took pictures of my favorites, and then painted this later to show them off.”

“Yes, they do look so delightful and tasty,” Beatrice said, looking over the painting. “I got this fifteen years ago, before I opened the store. I was just collecting then and this seemed so much like an older work. It’s got definite influence from the Dutch masters of still life paintings and I was surprised to learn it was only a few years old at the time. Artists just don’t work in this kind of style often these days.”

“There’s a lot of competition from photographers,” Polaris said. “I like trying out different ways to paint things, but I do like still-lifes.”

She nodded. “Yes, and to find modern artists like this who don’t work in prints or prefer more abstracted styles… but then, are you really this artist? There’s been quite a stir about the artist with this signature the past few years.”

“Well I don’t have the sketches from this painting anymore, but there might be some photos if I search,” he said, opening his portfolio to pull out the nine by eleven sketchbook. “I do have this, if you want to see.”

“Sure, I’d love to.” She took the sketchbook and opened it. On the first dozen pages, there was his preparations on Vilpent’s portrait, as well as random little sketches of other things. “Something like this recently was catalogued online by a Maverick Hunter, but it didn’t go up for sale.”

“It was for a friend,” he explained. “I don’t think he’ll sell it.”

She paused on a sketch of the park-like area of ARC. Then she clasped his wrist. “It’s wonderful to be able to meet you, Polaris! I’ve been watching out for other paintings by you on the market, but when the rumor went up a few years back that you were a reploid, prices started going up. It’d be great to see more of what you can do; I’d be happy to work with you as an art agent to get fair prices.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling shyly. “I’m looking into how things are. I brought one of my more recent paintings along to see what prices on it might be.”

“I can get a display easel,” the other woman said, and went over to a small closet in the room to unlock it.

“Sure, that’d be great,” Beatrice said, handing back his sketch book. “Have you considered doing commissions, or allowing prints to be made from the originals? No one’s been able to do prints since they weren’t sure about copyright issues.”

“I’m doing a couple of commissions, both murals, although one of them was just redoing an old one. I’d be all right with some of the paintings getting print copies done, like this one here. I don’t know about this new one, though,” he added, pulling it out of the portfolio and placing it on the easel when the other woman had it up.

It was the one of the rusted hand that he had painted a few months back. While he had seen ruined corpses of reploids in the junkyard, this hand wasn’t particular to any of them. It was just an image that haunted him: a long dead hand clutching a work hammer, like the reploid had died while on the job. There were some bugs crawling over the appendage and ground too, trying to reinforce its meaning of decay and death to humans.

“I know it’s not pleasant, but it has a lot of meaning to reploids,” Polaris said.

“It is a ghastly thing,” Beatrice said, leaning in to look it over closer. “But it gives you the chills, doesn’t it? An image of death, probably a senseless one at that, which is tragic to think of the poor individual who suffered. But there would be an audience for this.”

They discussed what it might be worth on the market but Polaris didn’t give it over for sale just yet. Even if he didn’t go with Ms. Serafino as an art agent, he already knew that she would have gotten him a better payment than Scorpio would, and would have given him a fair percentage too. It was reassuring to know that if he had any difficulty in finding a job, he could always live for a while off his paintings instead.

But to become who he might really be, Polaris still wanted to try out other things.

* * *

Polaris got back to the apartment, smiling and in a great mood. The professors had also wanted to know if he was really the person connected to the famous signature, and they were delighted to know that he was. While he wasn’t a household name like some famous reploids, his works were recognized among much of the art community. There had been a lot of debate about who he had been, some saying that his talent was a breakthrough for technology, while other said that it was impossible for a reploid to be a true artist. Although it certainly hadn't been the way he was programmed. He had worked hard at it.

About a block from the apartment, Tom came running over to him, Louie at his side on a leash. “Polaris, Whisker got out of the building! We've been looking for her in the past hour, but I can't find her. Sorry.”

“Has she?” he asked, worried. “It's okay, thanks for looking. I should be able to find her easier.” He sent out a query looking for her microchip. Hopefully the cat hadn't gotten too far.

“I guess she's not used to being an indoor cat,” the boy said.

Polaris got a response from the chip, so he headed off across the street. She was on the roof of a parking shelter for another apartment building. “Whisker, come down from there,” he called up.

There was a thump on a nearby dumpster, then the black cat jumped off that and came up to him. “Merrow!”

To make sure she didn't get away again, he picked her up. “Yes, I'm back. But I told you to stay inside.”

“Maybe you need to teach her to walk on a leash,” Tom suggested. “I think you can do that with a cat.”

“I'll definitely look into that.”

Back inside, the two animals were let go to find things inside to do; they got along fairly well so far, although Whisker tended to hang out in spots that Louie couldn't reach. Hue was in the kitchen, apparently working on the sink drains. As a Demon, he could manipulate his body material to reach down through the pipes. “Got a leak to patch in the basement,” he said. “I'll be done in ten minutes or so.”

“That's fine,” he said. He could put off making supper for longer than that, and there were other things to consider. Like figuring out how to leash train a cat and checking his budget for class supplies.

_You're settling right into an ordinary life._

Although the virus seemed disgusted with that, Polaris smiled as he went upstairs to put his things away. Whisker went up with him. “This is what I wanted,” he said quietly.

_But this is far less than you could be._


	11. Extreme Conservatism

June 2184

In order to walk a cat on a leash, one had to have a harness, not a collar. At first, Whisker had been unenthusiastic about it, toppling herself right over when the harness was put on. Polaris encouraged her to walk with it and after a few evenings, she seemed comfortable with doing so. This let him bring her along to the university mural site when he went to paint there, provided it was a good day. Once there, he usually let her off the leash and used her microchip to make sure she was around.

For the first part, he had various students (but all humans) helping him out. They got the mural outlined with chalk, then put on base coat colors. When it got to the final coat and touches, he'd be working alone to get things done the way he wanted. The help was appreciated at this first stage as there was such a large space to cover.

The third day he had worked on the mural was the first evening where he had the civics class. He left Whisker at the apartment for that and arrived at a high school near the university. At the classroom, he was surprised to find one of his neighbors here. “Hi Daniel,” Polaris said, smiling at him. “I thought you were a law professor, not a GED teacher.”

Glancing up from his papers, the man smiled back. “Hi again. I am qualified to teach this class, although this was a last minute change. The teacher who was supposed to teach it got caught in a Maverick attack.”

A Maverick attack, here? That was worrying. “Really? That's too bad.”

Daniel got a few more things organized. “It is strange, though. Evergrande has a good reploid population, but we don't have many problems with Mavericks. It's been said that we don't have much to attract them with. While there's the Iconaic factory, it doesn't produce the high quality gear that they're generally after. That and we have some good members of the Maverick Hunters working in the city. Not, you know, the big name ones like X or even Axl, but good all the same.” He glanced at his watch, then at the students coming in. “Class is about to start, so go on and take a seat.”

“Right.” He ended up sitting next to a young woman who had long spiky black hair with red highlights. Oddly enough, she looked young enough to be in a regular high school, not a GED class. She glanced at him, but simply pulled her notebook closer to give him some extra space on the shared table.

A few minutes later, the class came to order. “Good evening, and welcome to the GED Civics and Laws course. There was a last minute change to the schedule, so Mr. Bell won't be teaching this class. I am Professor Daniel Langley of the law school and I'll be handling this class in his stead. And don't worry; I'm not going to go in-depth into legal matters unless you ask for it.” After some chuckles, he started checking on attendance. Most of the way through the list, he got to, “Polaris Starr... I know who you are, but the school wants a RIN confirmation. Here.” He tossed over a small handheld scanner.

“Sure,” he said, catching it and setting it to register his identification number.

“We have a reploid in this class?” someone asked in disbelief.

Acting like it was no big deal, Daniel nodded. “Yes, he needs this to qualify for full citizenship like some of you, so the school made arrangements.”

_Why should I give our data over to that thing?_

'Because I can't take the class otherwise,' he thought. Once he had the confirmation, he waited until Daniel was closer to give it back.

“But a reploid shouldn't have full citizenship,” the one person said. Polaris glanced over and saw that it was a young man with tattoos on the back of his hands. They were symbols of a group that despised the technology of robotics intelligence and fought to keep reploids from being made. “They're not real people.”

“According to the laws, he qualifies for citizenship,” Daniel said. “And that will be it for this discussion in this class.”

Polaris felt embarrassed that his presence was causing a fuss. But then, the girl at his table patted his hand. “Don't mind him,” she whispered. “He's an annoying bigot, in more ways than one.”

“I see,” he whispered. “Thanks.”

Her name was Anya Weston.

* * *

Due to sitting at the same table, Polaris and Anya got put together to work on a class presentation. Despite her punk hairdo and the multiple ear piercings, she seemed like a good person so he didn't mind. They met one afternoon at a coffeehouse to discuss what was needed for the project.

And to just talk for a little while. “It's good that you can finally get recognition for who you really are,” Anya said.

“There are times when it's still amazing that I have been,” he said. “I had people telling me that I wasn't worthwhile, but then all this happens... I hope I don't get too egotistical about it.”

She smiled. “I would hope not. I know how that feels.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you?”

“I will, I hope,” she said, shrugging. “I've spent most of my life in troubled youth homes and a juvenile detention center, all because of something I did when I was really young. I don't even remember it all that well. At least I wasn't with my parents, because they thought I was evil. That kind of thing hangs over you. But once I'm twenty-one, the whole mess gets fully locked in my records and I can start over with a clean slate. I can't wait for that day.”

Things that happened when you were young, when you didn't really know... he knew how that was, even though his situation wouldn't be the same as her's. “That's rough. But it should be over with soon, right?”

“I've got a little over a year left. I'm just lying low for the time being.” She didn't even look bothered. Or maybe she was just practiced in hiding how she felt. “I used to act out about it, but then I figured that they were all expecting me to be trouble. So it would be better if I proved them all wrong by not being that way.”

“Is that part of why you're in this GED course instead of regular high school?” he asked.

Anya nodded. “High school isn't easy for the average teen, but someone like me? That atmosphere just wasn't healthy, so I asked to get out of it. It's done wonders for my grades.”

Like how he was happier here than back in ARC. “It would.”

Since Anya lived in a halfway home, she had a curfew that kept that meeting short. Polaris walked back to the subways station with her. They talked about music on the way, as much of their planning was done. But part way there, Polaris picked up on something that didn't seem right. There were some people ahead in an alleyway, waiting there. Not only that, but there was something electrical that didn't feel right. Suspicious, he made sure that he would be in between them and Anya; it would be easier to repair a reploid than a human if something went wrong.

“I like the music they play in clubs, but can't stand the places now,” Anya said, not noticing the trouble. “They do stuff they wouldn't dare on normal radio stations, at least until those songs become popular enough that the stations play them anyhow.”

The alley became visible, showing one of their classmates along with three other men. Wasn't that the one who protested his being in the class? Polaris initially tried to ignore the group, thinking they might be able to walk by quickly, but then the largest of the group lunged for him. He turned and grabbed the man by the arm, blocking him but not enough to injure. “What are you doing?” he asked, although he felt his energy racing. He wasn't supposed to be fighting humans.

_He's a jerk, so it doesn't matter if you hurt him._

The man tried to get hold of him, so Polaris pushed him back. His classmate said, “We object to your attempts to be human, so we're here to get you out of that class.”

“Adam, just leave him alone,” Anya said. “It's not like he's done anything to you.”

“These dolls are a mockery of life and the sacredness of God,” an older man said. “They came about because of our straying from the moral truth. And it seems you need to be put into place.”

She looked angered, but moved closer to Polaris. “What, you're also one of those people who wants to set everything back five hundred years? No thanks.”

“I do have a legal right to be in the class,” Polaris said, hoping that might help. “You can ask Professor Langley about it.”

But the older man didn't seem impressed. “The law is immoral and it is imperative that we set things right. We will not let you distort God's will any further.”

“Where is your God?” a woman's voice called out from further in the alleyway. Polaris looked that way and saw two reploids back there, the beautiful female wearing a black armor formed to accent her femininity and a rather more ordinary looking male with a dark green armor that was blockier in form. Was it really... those two? Alyssa held her new buster arm up at them. “You're the immoral ones, the ones who should be wiped off that face of the Earth.” Then she fired a cloud of dust at them.

What kind of attack was that? Certainly not one he was familiar with. The dust cloud didn't hold together for long, but Adam, the older man, and the thug all coughed hard while they collapsed. Polaris took hold of Anya and pulled her back. While she had put her hand over her mouth and nose, it was hard to say how much that would help.

“We'll eliminate all of you for standing against us,” Tully said, readying his own weapon.

“ _Stop it!_ ” Polaris shouted, not wanting them to hurt his new friend or these three (even if they were being jerks, it wasn't right to take their lives _but there must be justice for reploids_ and revenge was not justice. Although honestly, he didn't expect them to stop. They were definitely under the control of the Maverick virus; he could feel how deeply it had eaten into their beings.

Surprisingly, they did stop, even lowering their weapons. “Huh, Polaris?” Tully asked.

“Why are we to stop from burning their intolerance away?” Alyssa asked.

_Well look at that. You can control the Shifters. Too bad that you won't; it's a total waste to brush aside help from even these two dolts._

“What happened to you two?” he said, trying to bluff ignorance because Anya was still here.

_Lemme try. Hey you two losers, I'm trying to break into normal society in this city as part of the overall plan and I need to keep a low profile. I'll talk to you later, but for that, back off as if I'm nothing more than an uninfected friend you still have attachments to._

And the two of them received Delta's instructions for them. Polaris even noticed their acknowledgment of the order by thought. “You left ARC too soon,” Alyssa said. “We've gotten word about the Maverick Prince, who will lead us to a permanent dominance over these pitiful humans. Let that one go and we'll take care of all of them.”

“Yeah, if you'd stayed just a day longer, the virus would have come to enlighten you too,” Tully added.

“The virus got a hold of you?” Polaris said, sounding hurt although it was for reasons besides knowing they were Mavericks. “Then you're not my friends. I don't want you around.”

“We are your friends,” Tully said, shaking his head. “We just have a new goal to pursue, a much better one than before.”

Turned partway, Alyssa said, “You'll realize that in time. Come on, let's get moving again. We'll convince him when he's alone.” Then the two of them teleported out of the alleyway.

Anya shifted nervously. “Okay, I could handle Adam's mule-headedness... but not Mavericks. Those were friends of yours?”

“At one time,” Polaris said, putting a hand on his head. “And the virus was supposed to be dying out by now. I'm going to call for some help.” With that, he focused on putting in a 911 call.

“Right, we don't have to stoop to their level by ignoring them,” she said. Anya started pacing while they waited on paramedics to arrive.

As well as the police and a Maverick Hunter. The latter was a female reploid dressed in a uniform much like the police, as if she had been patrolling the streets with them before getting called here. Unlike the human police force, she had dark pink hair and a pair of metal antennae angled back from her ears. The antennae was attached to some machinery that made a pink force field appear in front of her eyes, likely giving her extra sensory input.

The Maverick Hunter, who had named herself as Mimosa, handled much of the questioning. “So you knew the first set assailants, Miss Anya, and then you knew the second set Polaris. How do you know them?”

“Adam was in my homeroom when I was in public high school,” Anya said. “I didn't know him like a friend or anything, but he disrupted classes so often with his Authoritarian nonsense that he was hard to ignore. He tried pushing his religion on me, as well as a lot of other students. I don't know them much beyond that.”

“We'll look into that,” the human police officer there said, taking notes.

“And the reploids?” Mimosa asked.

She was an attractive professional woman, Polaris found himself thinking. But then, she could also be an enemy. “I, um, I was friends with the woman for several months,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “Her name is Alyssa, and we both lived in ARC at the time.”

“Isn't that the community from the junkyard that got shut down?”

He nodded. “Right, but I left to try finding a better life. Also, she had gotten married to the man that showed up with her, back when she went on a trip to North America, in particular the southwestern states. His name is Tully, but I don't know as much about him.”

“You seem to be clear of infections,” Mimosa said, although she still watched him closely. “Had she been infected before?”

“I don't think so,” Polaris said, not about to tell a Hunter that he knew exactly when she'd been infected.

“Excuse me, but,” Anya said, glancing around, “I live in a halfway home and I have to meet a curfew.”

“We can talk with your guardian about excusing you for tonight,” the human officer said.

That was good to know. Still, he had to spend far longer than her in being questioned about the incident. He thought he got through it without suspicion, but then again, he might not know what the Maverick Hunter really thought of him until she took some action against him.

* * *

July 2184

'You do not deserve the rights of full citizenship, nor can you uphold the proper responsibilities to the city that all citizens must follow. Your emotions are not real and your thoughts are not your own. Leave behind all these sinful dreams and do as you're told.'

“Another one of these,” Polaris said, shaking his head. Even though Adam was no longer a part of the civics class, he still got these notes. He crumpled up the note and tossed it into the wastebin.

“It's too bad that you can't do much about them until you get your citizenship, but they want to stop you before you get there,” Anya said, doodling in her class notebook.

He shrugged. “I don't know how seriously the courts would take a harassment case from a reploid. I've seen some really bad injustice that legal authorities wouldn't pay attention to.”

“It used to be excused for years that reploids weren't citizens so such things were ignored,” Daniel said. The class hadn't started, so he was leaning on his desk and chatting with them. “Actually, this isn't quite new territory. I read up on the lengthy process that X went through in order to be recognized as on equal grounds as humans when he was found.”

Keeping himself from shivering noticeably, Polaris asked, “Really, he had trouble?”

The professor nodded. “There were a lot of arguments over whether he was an object or a person. However, there were a number of things that counted in X's favor at the time. For one thing, he was a novelty as there was nothing or no one else like him then. When we started making reploids, they were of noticeably lower quality and capability, so the public opinion has shifted reploids to being less than X, who is a world citizen. Thereby reploids are often seen as less than citizens. X was also found in a time where there was a greatly favorable opinion of the sciences over religion.”

“And with all the wars disrupting society on a global scale, things have shifted to the general public being wary of science,” Anya said. Then she shrugged. “I've heard it around; a lot of my classmates really disliked science class and the teacher had to work hard to keep their attention.”

“That could be happening,” Daniel agreed. “Which is awful, because I think some of the responsibility of what goes on does lie with mankind. People get too comfortable with how things are and they are surprised when technology advances reploids to the point where they can catch up to the one they started with.” He then smiled at Polaris. “But I've lived with a number of reploids as neighbors who've had varying levels of independence. I'm really happy to see you get this far, Polaris, and I hope we'll end up with more like you.”

_He's on our side?_

Polaris smiled back at Daniel. Surely there would be more than just one human who was on their side. “I'm not really sure how I did. Maybe just how long I've lived, but I hope there will be more reploid citizens too.”


	12. Maverick Hunters Off Duty

July 2184

There had been a celebration for the official unveiling of Polaris' mural at the university. As it was in an area many students and professors walked through to get around campus, there wasn't much of a surprise for how it looked. Still, they covered it up with a giant canvas to reveal in a dramatic fashion for people who had come to see it for the first time. It had been quite an event, a cloud of happiness touched often by some embarrassment over all the compliments he got on it. He was proud of it, although he saw some flaws that were easier to tell on the wall than in his sketchbook. But if he had another chance, mural work would be good to do again.

Since they suggested use of the classical muses as a theme, Polaris had gone for that as the subject. However, he worked in modern technologies to adapt and enhance their roles. It was sometimes a hard choice, such as trying to work in the muse of tragedies Melpomene without insulting some group. Others were pretty easy, like giving Urania the badge of a space exploration group and having Clio and Calliope share communications with computers. Delta had tried to convince him to depict one of them as a reploid, which would have been interesting. But still too controversial. Instead, Polaris had made some of the other figures in the mural obvious reploids, like audience members and some of those inspired by them.

That event had been last week. This week, he was back to hunting for a job. It wasn't going as well this time. The few employers he had met took a look at his personality grades and seemed to decide against hiring him right then. And since he didn't have citizenship yet, he couldn't argue that it was prejudiced hiring practices. Even if it probably was, what with the laws meant to combat unemployment for humans (but not reploids).

Polaris sat back in the yellow couch, looking over a pencil sketch he had made of Whisker. The cat was sitting on the window seat, looking outside. “I suppose this does give me more time to draw,” he said. “But Vilpent thinks I can be more than I was, so I should be trying to do other things too. I wonder if I could get hired for a job with cooking.”

Turning around, Whisker looked at him, then hopped off the window seat to come over to him.

He chuckled. “It's easier to draw you asleep, when you're not moving.” He rubbed the cat's chin for a moment, making her purr loudly. At least she was happy to have him around.

“Hey, you in today?” Abe said, standing by the doorway. “We're thinking of dropping in on Naomi at the craft fair.”

“That would be good,” Polaris said, shutting his sketchbook and getting up off the couch. He had talked with her about it a little while ago, but had decided against trying to sell his art himself there. Beatrice had a few paintings that she was going to have at her gallery's booth.

“You could even bring Whisker if you keep her on a leash,” the old man said. “She has Louie over there already.”

He smiled; hopefully she wouldn't mind being around lots of people. “Why not? You ready to go on a long walk today?”

“Merrow,” the cat said, curling her tail around. Once she saw him bring out her harness, her ears perked up and she was happy to wear it now to go out with him.

A short ride on the subway later, he, Whisker, Abe, and Hue arrived at a convention center. The entrance fee wasn't much; he didn't even have to pay for Whisker, although the women selling tickets warned him that he would be responsible for anything she did. There were some others in the crowd who had also brought pets. He saw a few dogs who were well-trained enough to not bark at or chase after Whisker. Mostly, the pets were robotic replicas of small animals, some normal dogs, cats, and birds, but other oddities such as a long-tailed lemur, a yellow snake, and raccoon. He had been mostly training Whisker in walking on a leash and behaving herself indoors, but she would walk by his side by her own wishes.

The first booth they looked for was the large one that was for the quilting club their neighbor belonged to. Naomi and a few other ladies were showing off completed quilts as well as using a quilting machine to work on a large one that the group had made. While they were giving their own part to the convention's effort to inform people of the importance of preserving old trades, they didn't mind just chatting with them about the usual gossip and news going around the city. Or trying to talk Polaris into buying a small quilt for his 'darling little feline friend'. Whisker had sniffed around the hanging quilts and pushed through them, but at least she hadn't tried scratching them.

The four of them just wandered around the show after that. Hue particularly liked a display of sculptures that took advantage of fountains of water and multi-colored lasers for bright and unexpected effects. “It is an interesting art form,” Polaris said. “These seem rather basic in form, though, simple patterns. You could probably make something more intricate out of it, although it'd require more calculations than the art I make.”

“I don't know much about art,” the Demon reploid said, putting his hand on the chest of his liquid blue body. “But I do appreciate good waterworks.”

“Because that's your job, right?” Abe asked.

“That's it,” Hue said, making a hand motion that was his form of nodding. After all, his head and body were fused into one whole.

“That doesn't mean that you couldn't make an art of it, if you wanted,” Polaris said, turning to watch Whisker. She was trying to bat at a stream of water in one fountain, but had to shake the water off her paw when she realized it was wet.

Hue's eyes widened at that. “You think, I could do art too?”

He nodded. “I don't see why not, especially if you're working with a medium you know about. I mean, water and pipes, and whatever else would go into fountains and such. You'd just be looking to make something beautiful, unusual, or something to make a statement.”

Delta had remained quiet for much of the day, possibly observing what was going on. But it did speak up when Polaris noticed a reploid nearby that looked like the Maverick Hunter he had run into the other day. She had the same dark pink hair, but was wearing what appeared to be a long dress that doubled as body armor. While it had features that softened it, like a translucent fabric covering in a brown and yellow floral pattern trimmed with cream lace, it also had a thickness and sturdy base that seemed like it could absorb hits from most modern weapons. The boots even had a low heel so that she could pass for a regular citizen.

_You ought to go speak with her._

'Why?' he thought. He and Whisker were on their own at the moment, as Hue had gotten called back in to work after lunchtime and Abe was busily talking with a friend.

_She's the enemy; it would help to know more about the local Maverick Hunters, maybe even get the trust of a few of them so we don't get suspected. You could always say that you think she's cute and want to get to know her that way._

“I don't know about that,” he whispered, turning a little pink.

“Meow?” Whisker asked, looking up at him.

He knelt down and petted her. “I'm just talking to myself, sort of,” he said.

_Not sort of. It's more like talking to your conscience._

“You're no conscience.”

“What an adorable kitty!” a woman said, or more precisely, another reploid. She was wearing a sleek black bodysuit with lines of neon blue in various patterns all over her arms and legs, like tattoos. She wore a dark blue and yellow minidress over that, tastefully ripped at the shoulders. Before long, she was crouching by them. “She's an animal, isn't she?”

He looked over at her and noticed that Mimosa was also approaching. Were these two friends? “Yes, she is,” he said. “Her name is Whisker.”

She smiled at them. “That's sweet. Is it because of her white whisker with all the black ones? Can I pet her?”

“Sure, she shouldn't mind,” Polaris said.

“Don't zap the kitten,” Mimosa said, stopping by them and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’ll be careful,” the other reploid said, moving her hand closer to see how Whisker reacted. But the cat didn't mind being pet by a stranger, once she'd gotten a smell of her hand. “Oh yeah, I’m Joules, and this is my friend Mimosa. I hope you don't think I’m weird or anything. I just think cats are so cute.”

“I thought we were here to help with security, not to admire other people's pets,” Mimosa said. “This isn't even a pet show.”

Joules laughed. “Oh, relax. We're off duty, so we can have some fun. I just used that as an excuse to get you out here.” Mimosa muttered, but that just made her friend laugh again.

Polaris smiled, then stood back up. “I see. Well I'm Polaris. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she said, although she was still paying attention to Whisker.

“I thought I recognized you,” Mimosa said, looking at him. “I had to interview you and that young lady the other day.”

He nodded slowly. “Right, about Alyssa and Tully.”

She sniffed. “Yes, them... I know we don't have as many Mavericks around these days, but you think we'd end up with some more interesting ones.”

“Aw, now you're being insensitive again,” Joules said, standing up. Then she looked at him. “We haven't tracked them down yet, but we're pretty sure they're still in the city. Don't worry though; Commander Silver Wolf is on the case and they won't be able to hide long with him looking.”

Maybe she thought that would be reassuring, but hearing that made him feel conflicted. Scratching his head and looking down, he said. “I suppose that is for the best. Alyssa had been a friend of mine before she got infected, but even meeting her briefly like that, she's changed a lot.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Joules said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “I mean, we can check over Mavericks now and recover some of them. But the best way is catching them early on before the virus gets into some vital systems. If her personality has already changed, then she's likely no longer the person you knew.”

_Yeah, we knew that before we left ARC._

“We can't tell you much more about them while they're still being looked for,” Mimosa added. “You'd best just put them out of your mind.”

Joules playfully poked her friend. “Yeah, well I know you'd still worry if one of your friends got infected.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It's a risk of being in our organization. You had better remember that from training.”

“It's still sad to think about, even though I've lost other friends to the virus,” Polaris said. “I've been around for a long while, so I've known many.”

Joules nodded. “Yeah, but I try not to get overwhelmed by it all. We still have our duty to attend to.”

Raising an eyebrow, Mimosa asked, “You're being concerned by duty?”

She laughed. “Of course! Doesn't mean I have to act all rigid and such. Although it's kind of odd, Polaris, since I’ve been around Evergrande a long while and I don't think I’ve seen you about before.”

“He was out of your usual patrol area,” Mimosa said.

“I mean I've lived a long time,” Polaris said. “I only moved to Evergrande this year, actually.” He felt Whisker rub her head against his leg, so he picked her up for a little while. “Okay, I still know you're here.”

Joules smiled at how the cat settled right into his arms. “Already settling in with new friends, huh? Well this is a great place to be, so I don't think you'll be disappointed. We keep this city really safe too, peaceful compared to other cities.”

_Go on, ask her to explain some more._

While he felt a little leery going along with what Delta wanted, Polaris felt like knowing more about the Maverick Hunters here was a good idea. It might give him an idea of if he was in trouble before they really acted against him. “It certainly feels that way,” he said. “I haven't heard much about the Maverick Hunters in this region yet. It certainly has to be better that where I came from in ARC; nobody would come out that way.”

Joules frowned. “I don't really remember any orders to go check out the trash center until the big raid a while back. Half of us went in with support from the main organization. We've got good reploids with our group, eight of us active Hunters including the commander.”

“Eight doesn't sound like a lot for a city this size,” Polaris said.

“It's plenty,” Joules said. “We're actually one of the large branches to handle all of Evergrande, but not all of the staff are actual Hunters. The percentage of reploids living here, especially free reploids, is fairly high, and we handle a lot of other duties now.”

Mimosa nodded. “Right, and we've got Silver with us. Our commander is one of the top-ranked Hunters currently working, even if he's not as well known. For a long while, it was just the two of us and him, and he was pretty much responsible for how peaceful Evergrande remains.”

“Oh, we all did a lot,” Joules said, snapping a finger and getting a spark from it. “But it was Silver's tactics and forethought that made this place tough for Mavericks to establish themselves in. I'm still grateful for the new guys, since it made it possible for the two of us to get a day off together. Speaking of which, we still need to find that booth I wanted you to see.”

“You were the one who got distracted by his cat,” she pointed out.

“You'll love it, I'm sure,” Joules replied while not really replying. “Sorry to cut such a nice talk short, but we can be called on duty whenever, so... anyhow, nice meeting you Polaris.”

He nodded. “Nice meeting you both as well.”

_So they've got eight active Hunters and this Silver Wolf should be investigated more if we want to do anything._

'We aren't going to do anything to get them involved,' he thought, watching as Joules dragged Mimosa through the crowd. Then he looked down, noticing that Whisker's purring had slowed down. Her eyes were half-closed. “Are you getting sleepy?” he asked. “I’m not going to carry you around like this if you're going to fall asleep on me.”

She did go to sleep on the subway train back home, so Polaris ended up carrying her on his shoulder back to the apartment.

* * *

After the break to see the craft show, he had spent much of the next day trying out for another job. As it was getting late and he had to get together a quick dinner tonight, Polaris was cooking linguine for linguine ala carbonara and pulled out a noodle to taste test. Not quite done. He was about to set it aside when he spotted Whisker watching the noodle sway with wide eyes. Polaris smiled and dangled it in front of her. “You want to try the pasta?”

Whisker leaned forward on the tall chair, caught her balance, then smacked the swinging linguine noodle. Polaris pulled it back a moment, then put it closer to her head. Sitting up quickly, she caught it between both paws and sniffed it, but then it got pulled away again. Polaris obliged her for a few seconds more before deciding he ought to pay attention to chopping the bacon. Whisker took the noodle, sniffed it, licked it, and then decided she ought to pay attention to the bacon too.

“Are you spoiling that cat?” Kyoto asked from the couch. “She’s purring like mad.”

Polaris chuckled. “She’s my cat; I can spoil her all I want.”

“All right, but you have to deal with her.”

Nearby, Kyoto's girlfriend Lucia giggled. “You ought to see her play. Come here.” She picked the cat up, although Whisker didn't want to take her eyes off the prize.

Polaris smiled. “I just gave her a noodle to play with. She wants the bacon though.”

With that, Kyoto got up from the couch in the TV area. “I want that bacon first.”

Both of them laughed and Whisker meowed, looking up at Lucia. “You’ll have to battle her for it,” she said jokingly.

Kyoto nodded and held his hand out in a challenge. “All right, en guarde, pussycat.”

Confused at the action, the black cat looked at Kyoto quizzically. “Meow?”

He rubbed her head quickly. “Aw, you’re no fun.”

Shaking his head at the scene, Polaris said, “About ten minutes to supper, I guess. Could you tell the others?”

“All right.” Kyoto and Lucia then went upstairs to find the other residents of the apartment, taking Whisker with them briefly. Meanwhile, Polaris set the chopped bacon aside and checked on the sauce.

Part of that night's conversation was his latest attempt to get a job. “It was a training course for a psychic tarot reading group, which I thought would be interesting to learn about,” he said.

“Yeah, so you could see into the future,” Tom said, interested in that concept.

Polaris nodded. “Right, but then the whole thing turned out to be a scam. It was a phone based company, so they used a computer program to draw the cards and encouraged the so-called psychics to keep callers on as long as possible for high charges. Then, the instructor gave the demonstrations fast; it was hard for even me to follow. Further training courses would even charge students, but not in an obvious manner as they were all listed in fine print. I'd rather not bother with that to learn how to cheat others.”

“I've heard that some tarot readers are authentic, but certainly not ones like that,” Abe said.

Lucia, who was visiting for the evening, then said, “Hey, if you're looking for work, the ECPT is looking for a couple more station attendants. And they want reploids for those jobs, since we need to be able to connect to the rail network to know about delays and changes quickly. You just need to have some good socializing aptitude as we deal with lots of people. I can tell you how to get to the employment office tonight.”

He shook his head. “I have class in an hour. But I could go early tomorrow.” It sounded like something easy again, but it could also be interesting.

* * *

The next morning, he took the subway to the Downtown Ashleigh Street Station. It was an impressively large station, with a few small stores, a city tourist information center, and an entrance to the main ECPT offices. On the walls by the entrance, they even had a number of maps of Evergrande City itself, including street maps (marked with ECPT's bus stations and car rentals), topography maps, and rail maps. His interest was finding the manager who dealt with hiring reploids.

He got directed to the fifteenth floor of the office building, so took the elevator up there. But while they were quickly traveling upwards, he felt a strong sensation from all the electronics in the building. It wasn't the Maverick virus, or any virus that he had encountered. In fact, the system felt clean. It was simply so powerful, organizing all of the transportation moving within the city. ECPT must have kept up not only the trains and buses, but also all of the traffic lights and air lanes. Maybe other city schedules too.

Feeling this made Polaris feel uneasy. “How do I know all this?” he asked quietly.

_We can manipulate programming, so being able to read what a system does is natural. Since this system is so huge and communicates between its various parts constantly, we can read it loud and clear. Stuff like reading another reploid without actually reaching into them is harder to do._ That made some sense to Polaris, but then Delta had to add on, _This place would be an important place to hold in order to control the city, but of course that means the security here must be tight. Notice how the button panel there is laid out? It locks out most of the floors from visitors like us._

He shook his head. He didn't want to control the city; there was no good reason for him to do that. On looking at the panel, he could tell that Delta was right about the elevator locks. It had a number pad to put in the destination floor, along with some information on how to reach the subway level again. There was also a card scanner which would be used by employees to get to their work.

When they got off the elevator, there was another layer of security where the system ran a brief scan over him for known viruses before it let him out. It was like an unpleasant tickle going down his spine. _It's not noticing me, don't worry. A little late for viral scanning, though. I could've jumped in from the subway level, I'm sure._

Polaris was tense until the elevator door opened, indicating that he'd passed the viral scan. 'No, I wouldn't have let you,' he told Delta mentally, then headed down the hall to look for the office he needed. Maybe Lucia had thought it'd be simple for him to get this job, but she wouldn't have known that he had to worry about viral scanners and keeping a destructive-focused virus in check just to get in the building without causing trouble for anyone.

The manager who met with him was, surprisingly, also a reploid. Able Hub was a tall but slim humanoid model, wearing a blue and silver uniform armor resembling long slacks and a buttoned-up jacket. Because his short hair was also silver and light blue, it was easy to tell that he had been built for the ECPT. Interestingly, he had a pair of long black cords coming from behind his ears, hanging down to his waist level. One had a common connector that let him plug himself into other machines, while the other had a stub that could hold other connectors if needed.

After they exchanged introductions, Polaris offered his work report and personality grades for review. “I was interested in the station attendant job you were offering. I heard about it from Lucia.”

“That girl, huh?” Able said, taking the drive from him. Then his left cord moved itself up to connect to the drive. “We normally take female models for that job.”

“Why?” Polaris asked. It seemed an odd position to restrict gender to.

“Social expectations. But you are humanoid, which still works. Basically, we want to make passengers feel comfortable around our crews, so the attendants and such who are most out in public view are best if they're humanoid, for our human passengers.” Able paused for a moment, looking at the drive. “You worked as a childcare provider briefly?”

He nodded. “Yes. I'm open to trying a lot of different things.”

“It's good that you can work with humans. Hmmm.” He crossed his arms over his chest, thinking. “You've certainly got the social grades, well more than I ask for. But then... you were originally a fighter model?” He put his arms down at his sides. “I'm not sure about that one. We don't need soldiers.”

“I'm not that great of a fighter,” he said, rubbing his head. “And that's not what I want to do.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He considered for a second what he should said. “I want to find out what I can really be, after being stuck in the same rut for much of my life. That's why I like trying out different jobs now, to see what I can do in different situations. I'm also an artist, but there's not much steady income I've found for that.”

“I see.” Then Able smiled. “I can't argue with someone trying to find themselves. But if you do have some fighting ability, would you mind if I put you at one of the more troubled stations? It's in a bad part of town and I want the attendant there to be capable of breaking up a fight if need be. It can be hazardous.”

A more dangerous spot. Polaris felt a twisting of nerves at that. But then he recalled Lucia, who didn't seem all that capable in a combat situation. Presumably other station attendants would be like her, not able to keep up. “I've lived in a dangerous place where there were a lot of trigger happy thugs,” he said. “So far Evergrande seems tame compared to that. I think I could handle it.”

“That'd be great,” he said, pleased to hear that. “The current girls I have there are brave, but one of them isn't up to taking out a disruption or working there alone. I could move her to a more suitable spot then. But we have to finish the interview so I know you're right for the job.”

Polaris nodded, although this was already more promising than his other prospects.


	13. The Secret Arena, part 1

July 2184

For the first week of working at the so-called problematic subway station, Polaris felt that he'd been right in that this city wasn't as bad as ARC. There were a lot of rude passengers, some that even started loud arguments while waiting on the trains. There were more often drunks that passed through, as this area had some popular bars and other businesses of that nature. Three times, he had to deal with people trying to carry a weapon onto the train without permission (knives, all of them). He also heard from reploids who went to a fighting arena somewhere in the neighborhood. They never said its location around him, so it might even have been an illegal place. However, those ones tended to be less aggressive at the station itself, so without knowing where the place was, Polaris figured there wasn't much he could do about it.

It wasn't until a Maverick walked into the station that Polaris worried. It was some downtime before people started getting off work and came here to visit the bars, so the station was empty. Looking closely into his senses, Polaris could identify with some certainty that it was related to the strain Alyssa and Tully had; similar to his own but not as potent. But then, this particular individual was a Carrier, not a Shifter. It couldn't be them, but it was someone who had contact with them. He looked around the station, torn between getting out of here and staying put because he was working.

Unlike the Downtown Ashleigh Station, the North Nomura Station was dingy and small. ECPT made sure things were in good repair even here, but the floor had faint stains and the stairs seemed to be dirty no matter how often they were cleaned. The walls had an abstract painting of sorts on it; he heard from the other attendants that this was an effort to deter graffiti from showing up. Still, there were scribbles on the walls, from the obscene to the obscure. The trash bin had been put in a secure wire frame. The floors were tiled, while much of the rest was concrete. Because of some plain pillars keeping the structure secure, there was some cover and blind spots.

_Why are you nervous? They'll obey your commands and I doubt they'd attack you outright._

'They can't want me for anything good,' he thought back. 'And if I get caught talking to them, the Hunters will suspect me.'

To his anxiety, the Maverick came right up to him, after his own check of the surroundings. He was made somewhat like a porcupine; his brown and tan permanent armor had small spikes on the backs of his arms, torso, and head. When he was close, Polaris noted that those spikes were able to be fired like missiles if need be. “Hey, you Polaris?” the guy asked.

“Yes,” he said, staying at his post near the rails. “Did you need to know something about the trains?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I've got a message for you, from a couple of your old friends. We need to talk with you, somewhere else.”

“I'm working right now,” he said, hoping that might send him away, at least for now.

It didn't work. “Well later today.”

“I have an evening class,” he said. “What do they want from me? I'm not in a position to get involved now.”

The porcupine reploid glanced around. “I'd think you were in the perfect position to...”

“ _We're not taking over the trains,”_ Polaris commanded in a quiet tone, hoping that might not be seen as suspicious by the ECPT security.

He flinched at that. “Okay, okay... wow, you really are who they said you were. You have to come then. We might be able to change plans.”

He shook his head. “No. Now please leave. I don't want to be noticed by those watching.”

“We really need to talk with you,” he said. “Maybe later.” Then he left.

Polaris felt unsettled for the rest of that day. What did Alyssa and Tully want? But he still had a few hours left at work, so he kept a smile on his face and tried to keep polite to the passengers coming through the station.

There was another visitor to the subway station that got his attention. At first, he wasn't sure if he knew her. It was a reploid built like a little girl, wearing a pink and yellow kimono with her lavender hair done up in a traditional geisha style. Then he remembered that she was one of his neighbors, Kisa, the one who was rarely around. She carried a silk bag at her side, with some papers peeking out of it. It struck him as odd to see Kisa there, in this less them reputable neighborhood.

“Good afternoon, Kisa,” he said, smiling at her.

Shifting her bag, she looked at him for a moment before nodding seriously. “Good afternoon, Polaris. I wasn't aware that you were working here.”

“I started this job not that long ago,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

She patted her bag. “I'm working too. My owner has some business with a few pub owners in this area.”

Polaris nodded. “I see. But, isn't it a bit dangerous around here? It's a rough neighborhood.”

Kisa shrugged, unconcerned. “They know not to mess with me or they'll be in big trouble. I can't say any further.”

To him, that seemed odd. She didn't look like she was capable of battle, especially not in the attire she wore. She even had wooden sandals that didn't look good for fighting in. Then again, she must have arrived here before he started his shift and her kimono didn't have a tear or bit of dirt on it. She was safe, somehow.

* * *

August 2184

The porcupine maverick continued to bug him, asking when he could come meet with their group. Polaris continued to refuse it, although he managed to learn more about them. Lead by Alyssa and Tully, there were currently five of them. The porcupine humanoid was named Nails and he, like the others following the pair, was a regular competitor at the hidden arena on Nomura Street. And they had some plan, but they wanted to talk to him before they put it into motion.

It made it tempting to force them to keep putting off their probably destructive plan by refusing to meet with them. But then Nails found Polaris on his next day off, while he was walking Whisker in a city park close to his apartment. “Look, I know you don't want them to suspect you,” the porcupine said. “We're trying to do that... we're trying to help you. But you need to come to our arena so that we can talk freely. It's the best place we can get right now, as long as the Pajari group doesn't get suspicious.”

“Pajari?” he asked. He could understand them being wary of the Maverick Hunters, but...

“Hush, keep it down,” Nails said. “They're a crime group run by humans here in Evergrande and they own the arena itself, as well as much of the area around it. We'd try taking them out, but you've got us in a bind by not wanting to bring our battles out in the open.”

So there were mobsters here as well as Authoritarians and the new group of Mavericks? Even this good place had its bad sides, it seemed. Ignoring the situation much longer didn't seem like a good idea now, as he might not be able to keep them in check. “In that case, it seems I'd better come today,” Polaris said, looking down at Whisker. “But let me take my cat back home first.”

Nails shrugged. “It's an animal; why be concerned with it?”

“Don't mess with her,” Polaris said, considering making that an order. “She's important to me.”

“Meow!” Whisker said, seeming to smile and curl her tail proudly.

Back at the apartment, the black cat settled in to do some cleaning and maybe take a nap. Polaris was left to consider if he should take his armor and weapons out to meet with the Mavericks. He'd put them in his locker in the garage area on moving in and hadn't touched them since. While it was normal enough for reploids like Kyoto and Kay to wear their work armor most of the time, his was distinctive. When he wore it, more people were likely to connect him with Zero. He didn't want that, so in the end, he didn't even take his plasma sword as he took a rented car with Nails to reach the Nomura Arena.

It was hidden away under a dance club that had its own generator. Maybe that was so the power drain required to keep combatants from destroying the building went unnoticed. Past a short hall in the basement, he could see the arena itself, a dirt floor that was surrounded by cage shielding and several rows of seats. But Nails took him past a staff door, through a narrow and unremarkable hall, and into a security room. It was like the hall, long and narrow, but there was a number of screens on one wall, showing various areas around the arena and club. On the other wall, there was a large bank of servers that served both facilities. And on the wall opposite the door, there was a small elevator shaft.

And Alyssa was here. She hopped out of one of the seats and gave him a big grin. “Oh hi, you did come today!” Then she hugged him.

Surprised by that, Polaris started blushing. “Uh, h-hi Alyssa.”

She laughed and let him go. “Aw, now don't let yourself get all flustered. We're here to help you. Nails, would you let Tully know that we should be ready to go?”

“Yes, m'lady,” he said with a bow before leaving.

“Isn't this nice?” she said, smiling. “I've got people deferring to me as I would have done to those lazy humans initially. Although, not everybody does.” She frowned. “The guys who said they were our superiors now didn't want to spare much on us, so we ended up with lousy equipment to come stamp down this city. But, we have you on our side! They'll all be sorry for dismissing us when we manage to take this city over.”

_Yes, someone who agrees with me! Maybe she got smarter in the transformation._

“I don't want to take over this city,” Polaris said, to both of them. “I don't want to be a part of this. Just leave me be; I'm trying to rebuild my life.”

_I could lead you to a greater glory than you could get by yourself._

“I'm not looking for glory,” he said, in a quieter tone.

“Are you sure about that?” Alyssa asked, tilting her head. “We reploids have been showing and telling them what's wrong with what they're doing, but even after all this time, it's not working. They're even slipping back lately as Sigma has yet to reappear. We can't just get complacent.”

“Why would you be against humans?” Polaris asked, even though he knew the virus had something to do with it. But if he could resist, couldn't they? Even just a little? “You were friendly with the ones in ARC.”

_Why shouldn't you be? They're fighting against you gaining the rights that you have earned. They deny you work because you're too close to them._

'Not all of them are bad,' Polaris silently reminded Delta, but then he had to turn his attention to listening to Alyssa.

She put her hands on her hips. “Well I used to think they were okay, at least, that's what I told myself. But I resented them... I should have been more honest with myself about that, and other things, really. I guess it was about when ARC was raided that I really accepted that.”

“That was the Maverick Hunters' doing, not the humans,” he said.

She waved that off. “Yeah, but everybody knows that they're on a tight leash, controlled by human interests. But my troubles with humans goes way back, back to when the Eurasia crash happened. I was supposed to be working there.”

“Really, you're that old?” Polaris asked. “I hadn't realized that.”

“Kind of yes, kind of no,” she said, taking a moment to think on it. “I was going to be a maid and personal servant there, see? For the upper class visitors. I was made to do anything they might want with me, which is bad enough by itself. But then, me and my brother Snow had been sent down to the surface for some supposed error they found in our programming a couple of days before Sigma took over. When that happened, we were lucky enough to be far from the impact site, but unlucky in that nobody wanted us anymore. The company tried to sell us, but even at an insultingly low price, nobody took them up on it.”

It was awful to be unwanted, but there seemed to be something else to consider. “Well what did he do?”

“Same kind of work as me, but he was a male model,” she said. She looked down, although didn't seem to be sad. “We weren't even really siblings except in being made by the same company, but that doesn't mean anything. The Eurasia staff grouped all of us servant reploids into family units, as they called it, and I was with Snow.”

“It does seem to be a luxury job, and most people were focused on if they would survive rather than...” he rethought saying that. “Well, they could have reassigned you to more general work.”

“Yeah, they could have,” Alyssa said, now annoyed. “Instead, I got deactivated and put into storage for sale later. Snow too, but he got taken out before I did. He was angry about it, eventually joining the Maverick cause. About seven years ago, he came back and reactivated me. At the time, I didn't like that he had become a Maverick and took off on my own. But no matter how hard I looked for work, nobody wanted me for what I was intended for. I ended up in ARC because I found that bit of work there as a tailor. But, that was such a bore. I don't know why I didn't go looking for Snow before.”

“I thought you liked sewing,” Polaris said. “You gave out your work as gifts a lot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but that was because I couldn't do my proper work and that was the closest I could get. I was supposed to be able to handle several different tasks, so sticking to one gets old fast. Now I have the potential to do something big, so people won't forget me. They'll be grateful for the justice I bring. But then those foreign losers thought we weren't worth it and I had half a mind to bust their heads too, if I could get the power to do so. However, we ran into you by chance, so that makes things a whole lot better.” She beamed at him.

_You do make things better by being who you are instead of resisting it._

He wanted to get out of this, but he had come so they would stop bothering him (and to stop them from starting a possible gang war). With what she was asking of him, how was he supposed to do that? “I don't think I'd help you that much,” he said.

“You do!” Alyssa insisted. “I'm not sure how, but when I listen to you, I'm sure that you do. You seem a lot more powerful than I remember you being. Maybe that experiment of Scorpio's actually did something to us, but I just didn't notice cause it took so long. I feel like we could really crush this place into submission now.”

“Hey, I like this city,” Polaris said. “I don't really want to crush it.”

She shrugged. “Well it's not like we have anybody with the power to destroy buildings and such in our group. We could pull off taking control, though.”

Sighing, he realized that it was going to be as hard talking her down from taking over as it was talking Delta out of making violent plans. Then he asked, “What are you planning?”

“Something really clever!” she said, brightening at the thought. “Tully and I have heard a lot of talk that the Maverick Hunters here are really tough, with a tight grip over the city. We wanted to know more of what they can do. With that in mind, we found and recruited these fighters like Nails, as well as got a connection in to their communications lines. We're going to be luring some of them here to fight with them.”

After a moment, he added, “And then?”

“That's it, for now,” she said.

Even knowing that those fighter reploids were Mavericks and thus under pressure to commit violence, the unconcerned way she said it irked him. “What about Nails and the other fighters? If you pit them against the Hunters, they'll be trying to take your allies out permanently.”

She shrugged again. “That's okay. As long as they don't get us, especially not you, we can continue our work.”

_Okay, maybe she's not as smart as I thought. But willing to do whatever it takes to gain an advantage, although she could use that in a less foolish manner._

Polaris didn't see it quite the same way. “If you're trying to get justice for reploids, why are you willing to sacrifice others for your gain?”

“They can be rebuilt,” she said, not worried about them.

He shook his head. “Not if the Maverick Hunters take them down. They're a lot more careful about that.”

“We do what's necessary for us to win, even if it means razing the whole Earth and starting all over again. That's what I feel, and what the other jerks said. You're the Prince. Don't you know that?”

_Is that what's in the full goal list? I just knew I had to destroy humankind and infect all reploids so they listen to us. Although, that is a logical extension of that._

“Razing the Earth didn't work out the first time it was tried,” Polaris said, thinking on the Eurasia station again. “And I don't think this is a good idea either.”

“It's better to know then not, right? Besides, the owners of this place don't even realize that we've been using the arena so far. We were even able to fool the princess, so we won't be discovered until we want to be.”

“The who?” Polaris asked, but then a set of speakers in the room clicked on.

“Why are we doing this now?” Tully asked, annoyed. He was on one of the screens, apparently in the arena. “I was in the middle of recalculating the odds if we brought in a few more of the fighters.”

Frowning, Alyssa went back and sat in the chair she'd been in. “I told you, we can get by on this part with just the three of them. Save the better ones for an actual attack. We're doing this now because Polaris is finally here.” Switching her mood like a light switch, she smiled in a friendly way to him and invited him to sit in the chair next to her at the security station.

“He is?” Tully asked, sounding surprised. “I thought we were going to talk first.”

“We have, and it's going to happen any time soon,” she said, changing another screen to black.

White text started filling the black screen as Polaris sat down. 'Mimosa: In pursuit of one subject, a newly identified Maverick, north along Nomura Street. Glad you could follow quickly, commander.'

'Silver Wolf: I’ve heard the circumstances. I'm preparing backup.'

'Mimosa: Yes sir.'

This did not seem well-prepared, even after he'd stalled meeting with them. Then again, neither Alyssa nor Tully would have any experience with setting up battles. “I think we're all going to be in trouble.”

“Don't worry about it,” Alyssa said. “We'll be getting out before they know we're here.”

“I was supposed to be involved with the meeting,” Tully said, now angry. “Why are you always stealing control from me? We're supposed to be equals.”

“We're not equals because you're a dolt and you'd mess things up.”

“You're a heartless bitch and you're the one without brains!”

Polaris put his hands over his face and tried to block them out. Fear was starting to build in his mind. What was he supposed to do now? The Maverick Hunters were here and if they caught him watching with her, this would all be over. His freedom, his potential for citizenship, maybe even his life, all of it could be gone in an instant. They were seriously underestimating the Maverick Hunters. Even if he could get away, what if one of the security cameras had caught him coming in with Nails? That could ruin it all.

_I can handle that last issue easy. Put a finger on one of the ports, then I can get in and erase all stored recordings._

“You're going to help me?” he whispered into his hands. It went totally missed by the arguing couple.

_That's one of the things I'm supposed to do. You just resist so much of my help and advice. In this case, I agree that getting caught now would be a major problem. Let me go in and fix that... that's all I'll do this time, I promise._

As much as he didn't like using the virus to his own gain, this time seemed like a better idea then not doing anything. Looking at the console, he found several ports to devices like the headphones Alyssa was wearing. He picked a red one and touched it.

_To the audio equipment. It will do._ Then Delta moved into the security computer.

Polaris was immediately inundated with senses for the computers all around him. It gave him a look into the electronic structures of this building, streams of code moving in patterns that he saw in his mind. While he didn't know much about programming itself, he could make sense of all the code seeing it in this way. Maybe it was like how he had felt the ECPT system. It all fit together like a well-done drawing.

Within the system, he could hear the Maverick Hunter channel. “Suspect has entered some club,” Mimosa said. He could even see her through the system, pausing outside the front door.

In the time it took for her to relay that, the task was done. Delta had jumped from the audio programs to the security archive. The virus wasted no time in stopping current recording, then erasing all security data from the past three days. An entire part of that 'drawing' was gone. But unlike a still drawing on paper, the programming reconnected its lines and made sure that the deletion did not cause any errors or unevenness in its overall picture.

Then something else entered the system, like a different color. It rapidly swept through the system, searching for something. Delta pulled itself and Polaris out before they were touched by the new component. _That was the system from the Maverick Hunters, checking for information. I was just in time._

For a moment, Polaris closed his eyes. The feeling of Delta entering the club's computer systems was familiar, but it was something that he hadn't felt for a long time. Not since Scorpio had put his original viral strain into stasis. In a way, it was good to be reminded of that.

* * *

March 2156

It was here... wasn't it?

Shortly after his body had been rebuilt so that he could leave the system, Black Zero walked through the halls of the X Hunter Castle cautiously. There was still a lot of danger here, even though the Maverick Hunters were finished investigating. There were weapons in the walls and traps all over. Of course, most of them shouldn't react to him. But, they might. So he was going around to search for active ones, to deactivate them. It was something he probably should have done while his whole self was still in the system, but he hadn't thought of it.

_That's because you were growing afraid. We are not meant to be afraid._

Maybe he had been caught up in it. But then... he paused to look at an empty wall of one of the hallways. It had been here, that strange picture that Sigma had broken. However, it wasn't lying in pieces now. What had happened to it? Maybe the cleaning robots had gotten to it (the halls and rooms were much less cluttered than he remembered). Or maybe the Maverick Hunters had removed it. At any rate, he wasn't sure if it would come back.

Was this the right place? He continued ahead, recalling the day when he'd walked with Sigma here... when he'd been humiliated. It was quiet today, the atmosphere far from the tense anticipation before. Other than the rubble, it seemed to be the right place. He paused in front of the door, feeling a twist of nervousness about entering. Maybe he could deactivate things from here.

He connected his mind to the electrical wires in the wall, examining the state of the room past the door. In this manner, he was able to tell the flow of power and clusters of data activity around him. There were door mechanics, locks... ah, there was a couple of active weapons in there. From the looks of it, one was a series of sliding panels that could reveal death spikes and the other was a gun in the wall. He switched off the gun and made sure the spikes would remain covered. He couldn't exactly explain how he did it, but he didn't think to consider it more deeply. As it was in his programming, as well as the virus, it was as an unconscious action much like walking.

With that done, he disconnected and looked back to where the picture should have been. Maybe it was still around, as there was a lot more of this place to check over.


	14. The Secret Arena, part 2

August 2184

“Qix and Nails, they're coming down,” Alyssa said, snapping Polaris out of his recollections. “Meet up with Tully in the arena before Skate leads the Hunter there.”

“Right away,” a voice that had an odd reverb affect replied, carrying through the speaker on the console.

He looked up at the screen that had the Maverick Hunter's communication line on it. 'Silver Wolf: Their security programs aren't functioning, so we can't get a direct read on what's going on. You should wait to spring their trap until the backup comes.'

'Mimosa: I doubt it's going to be anything interesting. Hang on, there's something odd about this basement.'

'Silver Wolf: Unregistered battle arena.'

'Mimosa: Well that makes it obvious. I can handle this.'

By Polaris, Alyssa shifted her headset's microphone down. “Now that's an amazing feat, being able to run fast in an armored dress like that. I wonder if it was made for her, or where I could get one.”

“It would be something for a serious female fighter,” Polaris said. Today, she didn't have that thin fabric cover with the floral patterns, so it was just a plain brown and steel armor-dress. She seemed to be wearing brown hair tied up in a bun, but on closer look it was actually a helmet styled to look that way. In one hand, she carried a rather plain looking brown staff. Three spiked balls that seemed more appropriate as part of a morning star followed close to her in the air. Watching her through the various cameras, she seemed more intimidating today, with the harshly focused look on her face.

“Like I said, it doesn't matter if we win or lose today,” she said dismissively. “Although, I wish she had waited for some other Hunters to come. As it is, we'll only get battle data for her and there's supposed to be a lot of them in this city. But maybe they'll beat her. That'd be good too.” She smiled, eagerly watching the screens showing the arena.

There, Tully and Skate (a dark blue anthro model with wings and jets that seemed more appropriate to air or marine travel than battling in an enclosed arena) were already talking to Mimosa. “Why'd you have to drag your ballroom dancing partner in here?” Tully asked Skate.

“Watch it, she's coarser than she looks,” he replied, more like he was talking about someone who had rude manners rather than an opponent in battle.

“Is this where you Mavericks are hiding?” Mimosa asked. But, she didn't even pause to let them reply. “I'm going to eliminate any of you in our city.”

Her commander disapproved. 'Silver Wolf: Slow down, get them talking for information.'

'Mimosa: Meh.'

The friction there seemed worrisome, but if Alyssa noticed it, she wasn't saying anything. Instead, she said, “Oh, where are the other two so they can start fighting? I have a great idea, but they should be in there.”

Polaris got up out of his chair. This was a disaster waiting to happen and he wanted to be away from it. “I had better get going.”

“But you're going to miss the good part,” she said, looking up at him briefly. “I was really happy to see you again... there we go!” Smiling in a vicious manner, she input commands to the arena.

There, the other two Mavericks had entered the arena to surround Mimosa. “You'd better rethink your standing,” Tully told her. “This arena here really tests the fighting abilities of reploids and these three are regulars. We'll be the ones destroying you. That is...” With no warning, the energy barriers making up the cage part of the arena shot up, enclosing all five of them in an area meant for battles between two reploids. “What? Alyssa, what are you doing?”

She laughed as she hit a button to reply over the announcer's channel, “Go on, smash her!” Then she shut the channel back off. “This is just great! He doesn't have a chance in that fight, but they'll probably take her down too. I should get a recording of this later.”

“Why do you want him killed?” Polaris asked. Sure, they seemed to be arguing badly, but it was horrifying to see how Alyssa was enjoying this. “He's your husband.”

“I hate him,” Alyssa said. “He's so particular about everything. It all has to be perfectly clean and in a certain order... he even wanted to get the arena floor scoured so that the dirt wasn't there, but that's what the owners of this place want and we couldn't alert them too much. Not only that, but he keeps trying to control me, bullying me into doing whatever he wants.” She pounded the control panel. “I just managed to shed that regret over not being able to be a servant! I'm not going to let that dullard take over my life, not on some mistake based on dumb human traditions. The only one I wouldn't mind taking orders from is you.”

“Have you been listening at all?” Polaris asked, emboldened by a flash of anger. Who was she to call marriage dumb? “I don't want to be involved, especially once the other Maverick Hunters get involved.” He pointed over to the screen. “Look, she's already taken down one of them.”

Indeed, Mimosa had taken out Nails with her three spike stars. She didn't even seemed fazed that she was being attacked by multiple assailants, using her staff to block the multicolored triangular blades that Qix was using. Skate attacked her with a burst of green energy, proven to be a powerful acid when part of it hit Tully and ate through his armor. However, Mimosa's dress armor wasn't affected at all.

“Why should you be afraid of them?” Alyssa asked. “You're the Prince. You could get rid of them easily. We were just trying to make it even easier.”

“I'm not like that,” he said.

“You...” she paused, putting a hand to her headset. “You should go; their backup will be coming in soon. I will find a way to help you.”

“Don't,” he said, then opened up the elevator door to get out of the building. Hopefully this was quick.

_I really don't get you sometimes. A few months ago, you were all mopey over her ignoring you. Now she says that you're the only one she wants to serve and you could get her to do whatever you want without argument. That only made you mad and you rejected her._

“I know,” Polaris said, taking a couple of steps (but the elevator was small, not much to pace around in). “But the virus in her is making her feel that way. It wouldn't be real.”

_Why not? Her programming once told her to be obedient, as a part of who she was. Now it says that she should be obedient only to you. And those feelings will be permanent, not as temporary as love founded only on emotions seems to be. You'd never have to question her loyalty. Not only that, but you could influence other reploids to feel the same way. Nobody would reject you, or dismiss you based on prejudices. They call you a prince now, but you could be a king._

“I don't want to enslave others like that,” he said. As nice as it might be to have someone love him unquestionably, it would make his follower less of a person. There was no reason Alyssa should have tacked on a statement that she'd be loyal to him after that outburst about being controlled. She wasn't as free as she thought she was.

The elevator stopped, opening its doors. One side led into the main level of the club, while the other led out into the alleyway, past a holographic generator that probably made it look like the wall from the outside. However, Polaris felt three reploids outside in the alley already, stopped a few feet from the elevator. From bad to worse... there was no way he was getting out of this unscathed. He'd been doing so well living on his own, and now...

_Calm down. They aren't Maverick Hunters._

“How do you know that?” he mouthed, leaning against the elevator wall and looking warily at the alley.

_Take a closer look. They aren't connected to the communications channel the Hunters are using right now._

There would surely be questions as to why he was coming out of the wall, and just because they weren't Hunters didn't mean that they would keep quiet about his presence. But Polaris didn't know this building well, and a choice between getting caught by Hunters and being seen by unknown factors wasn't that hard. He left the elevator for the alleyway, taking a look at who was out there. And... it was Kisa? The girl-ish reploid was wearing a red and gold kimono today, accompanied by two huge reploid guards, both eight feet tall with a build much like a powerful gorilla. They had orange skin under dark brown armor, and black horns in their short hair.

One of the huge goons started lumbering towards Polaris, but Kisa raised a delicate hand to him. “Wait a moment. He may be of use.”

“Kisa, what on earth are you doing here?” Polaris asked, genuinely bewildered this time.

“Please state, in a plain and clear manner, what is going on in there,” Kisa replied. “The Maverick Hunters are to have a squad arrive here shortly; we do not have much time.”

She didn't want to be caught by them either? But neither she nor her goons had any traces of the Maverick virus. Still, he opted for some of the truth. “There's a group of Mavericks in the basement who lured one of the Hunters into a trap and I want nothing to do with them.”

“I see,” she said. Then she waved him to come with her. “You had best come with us. We can assure your safety from both sides.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. What was with her?

Instead of explaining herself, she turned around and began walking down the alleyway. “We have little time.” Her goons followed after her silently.

There really wasn't much time. Polaris went after them too, feeling twinges of anxiety in his power system. Past the club and its neighbor, they entered a private area of a parking garage where Kisa had to hold the door so he could enter. Sitting there was a hovering van, all black with windows shadowed so no one could see in. There was a reploid sitting at a small observation station inside the van, a slim but quite shapely female with a color scheme of mostly green. “We can't leave quite yet,” she said. “Not until things settle down with them. Hello there, handsome.” She winked at him briefly before going back to watching Hunter's back-up squad getting into position all around the club and arena building.

“That's fine,” Kisa said, sitting down on one of the plush couches. “Take us out when we're safe. And scan Mr. Starr here for infections.”

“Right-o.”

Whatever scanner they had was powerful. Polaris felt it trying to pierce through his defenses, causing an unpleasant tingle inside of his body. Not only that, but Delta became agitated. _Damn, quit prodding! I should be able to fool it, but gah._

“He's clear,” the operator said.

“You're lucky,” Kisa said, then indicated one of the other seats. The center of the van had them in an oval ring, with the driver's area in front and the odd observation station and other gear in back. The two big goons opted to stand on either side of the sitting area. “Sit down, please. You'll be my guest for a little while.”

“Thanks,” Polaris said, sitting down in a seat against the wall, across the corner from where Kisa was.

“Now what were you doing with Mavericks in our arena?” she asked.

“Your...?” He recalled that Nails had said that the Pajari mob family owned the arena. Polaris had assumed they were humans. Perhaps this was worse? Trying to keep calm, he took a deep breath. “Well, one of my former friends is a part of that group now. They were trying to convince me to join them. I had only heard about the arena before today.”

“Which ones were Mavericks?” Although she was interrogating him, she still had a neutral but polite tone to her voice. She hadn't changed that at all, like an unfeeling intelligence.

“Nails, and, um... Skate? And Qix. Alyssa and Tully were the ones leading them, but she was my friend and I'm sure he's new to this area too.”

Kisa nodded. “That is unfortunate. We will disconnect them from our group.”

A part of him didn't want to dig too deep here, but his curiosity had to know. “Excuse me for asking, but what are you doing here? I thought you said that your owner runs a liquor store.”

“He does. He also owns other businesses, such as furniture stores, the Iconaic factory, and electronics stores. He also does work on the other side of the market, like street goods, battle arenas, and sex workers. This is because he controls the whole family. And, I serve him directly, representing him often. The Pajari family is very powerful. We can protect you. Or, we can destroy you. Whichever you choose.” All the while, never changing her monotone politeness.

“What would you want out of me?” he asked. He couldn't imagine a group like that doing something that had little benefit to themselves.

“You may not see much of me, but I pay attention,” Kisa said. “You are an artist of excellent skills, are you not? And you are attempting to become recognized as a full citizen. All that stands in your way is a test in a few days and a judge to approve. Because of your teacher and our neighbor, you need only worry about the test. It would be of great detriment if you were connected to this incident.”

He felt a shiver of fear hearing that. “Yes... that's all true.”

She nodded. “Then no one will know of your presence here. I only ask that you meet with Mr. Pajari and agree to do a painting for him. There is no need to worry, for I am certain that father will agree that this is a suitable service.”

Take a commission from the leader of a mob family? It wasn't something he'd ever imagined that he'd be doing. But, in exchange for their silence on what happened today, it seemed like mercy. “All right, I'll do that.”

_I'd make fun of you for being scared of a little girl... but she is terrifying._

* * *

According to the operator-driver of the van, Mimosa had managed to destroy Nails and Skate, injuring Tully to the point where he could be easily captured when her back-up shot out the cage barrier generator. Qix had been damaged and nearly destroyed, but he got out and injured two Hunters on his way to the security station where Alyssa was. The two of them had teleported away, but the van couldn't trace them. Despite being in a fierce close-quarters battle, Mimosa had gotten through with very little damage.

The Hunters then started clearing out the club building, so the Pajari van slipped out of the garage and headed back to their headquarters. Polaris had imagined that they had to be living in one of the mansions in better parts of Evergrande. However, he had failed to guess how impressive it would be. Kisa's other home turned out to be a small castle.

It was three stories tall, but had five story towers at each of its three corners. It was ornate too, with statues of dragons, gargoyles, and other mythic creatures sitting along the roof. At the front corner, a single gold-colored pillar stood in front of a cut out section that housed the grand entrance doors. Not only was the house huge, but it was surrounded by at least four acres of well-manicured gardens and lawns. Even the Everett house hadn't been this extravagant.

Also, the Everett house hadn't had a huge muscled man standing in front in the entryway for security. The van's operator dropped them off in the drive under the house's front point balcony, then took the vehicle elsewhere for parking. Kisa went right up to the doorman. “This man is a guest of mine; he is not to be bothered.”

“Acknowledged,” the doorman said, signaling the doors to be opened with a snap of his fingers.

Inside, it was just as grand. A lavish double stairway stood in the entrance room, made of fine wood (highly expensive given the state of the world) and marble. Tile mosaics made up the floor, beautiful geometric patterns in rich colors. Upstairs, there was a laughing conversation going on that was just far enough away to not be understood. Further down the hall on the first floor, there were a pair of men talking in a friendly manner. This was a palace and a home, a busy place if this was any indication.

“Welcome back, Miss Kisa,” a woman in the entrance room said. She dressed exactly as one would imagine a maid: a black dress with a short skirt, a lacy white apron, a matching choker, white gloves, and shined black shoes. Perhaps that was the preference of the head of the Pajari family, given how dressed up Kisa tended to be. “Do you need anything?”

She nodded. “Yes, I'd like you to look after my guest for a little while. This is Polaris Starr.” Kisa then looked to him. “I must speak with the master before I introduce you to him. It should not be long, but make yourself comfortable.”

“All right, thank you,” Polaris said. He didn't think he could feel comfortable here, though. There was too much he didn't know or wasn't sure about, but the wealth and power here was obvious.

“You could go see the English tea room,” Kisa suggested. “I think that would interest you. I'll send word for you when we're ready.” Then she headed upstairs.

“Please, follow me,” the maid said, getting up and leading him down the hall on ground level.

Being a triangular building, the rooms inside were oddly shaped. Polaris glanced in a few rooms and noted that a lot of the furnishings had been custom made for this structure, such as display shelves and corner tables made to fit the obtuse and acute angles of the rooms. Those he passed by seemed to be geared for socializing, with lots of seating and small tables. Less noticeable to a regular eye were the security features. Most of them Polaris felt the presence of electronically, like scanners, cameras, and maybe even a few hidden weapons. However, the face of it all was friendly, beautifully designed, and proud.

The maid brought him into a room that was, as Kisa had said, a recreation of an upper-class English parlor or tea room, perhaps in the Victorian era. It had a warm and soothing color scheme, with creamy browns and yellows. Over in one corner, there was a serving cart with a silver tea set; the latter had a seashell motif. There was a stately grandfather clock by the door and, for some reason, there was even a standing harp by a stool. While it was all pleasant, there were also several large paintings on the walls.

“Most of these are modern recreations, so feel free to sit down and relax,” the maid said. “Would you like some tea? I could get it hot or iced, however you like it.”

“Iced would be fine, lightly sweetened,” Polaris said, thinking over if he wanted to sit for a while or stand to look at some of these paintings closer. Either way, he really needed to compose himself before meeting with Mr. Pajari.

White the serving cart looked like older models, the maid opened up one of the lower panels to reveal a hidden refrigerator, just small enough to hold a pair of slim pitchers and a tray of small ice cubes. This family, or group maybe, was prepared to entertain just about anybody, so it seemed. Was it really a crime group? Maybe they were simply very good at attaining wealth.

_They're also said to own battle arenas and other businesses that most people see as unsavory. All these pretty things were bought with violence, sex, and manipulations. Probably. I doubt they're honest given how she didn't want to be seen by the Maverick Hunters either._

Realizing that, Polaris felt uneasy again. Hopefully he didn't have to get involved any further than taking an art commission. That would depend on how much this Pajari family valued art, or possibly reploids. They might, given the paintings here. Then again, most in this room were portraits, either in the style of or actually from Victorian England. It could just be the interior designer's decision to keep consistent.

Two paintings didn't fit the others, though. They were French, portraits of extravagantly dressed court women. Still, it fit; from what he understood, English culture had been fascinated by the French for a time. When he moved closer, Polaris noticed that these two had extra security measures to prevent theft or damage. There were energy fields around them, invisible to the naked eye. He could feel them; trying to touch either painting would end up with a burning sensation.

“Here's your tea, Mr. Starr,” the maid said, handing him a tall chilled glass.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, taking it. Then he pointed to the two French courtesan paintings. “These two, I was wondering...”

“They're from the family collection,” she said. “Some of the more valuable ones at that. Don't try to touch them; the head of the household won't even let us dust off the frames without a security 'roid watching the process.”

He nodded and took a sip of the tea. “I imagine so. But, one of them is real and the other is fake... is that right? At the very least, they're by different artists.”

“How would you know that?” she asked, seeming impressed. “I think that is true, that only one of them is really an antique, but most people don't notice.”

“I couldn't tell you which one is the real one,” he admitted. “I haven't had a chance to see many older paintings in person. But, the brushwork looks different between the two, so I wasn't sure.”

“I wouldn't have noticed that unless I was really close,” the maid said.

It was ten more minutes until the maid was called to bring him upstairs. The next floor seemed more for business, as Polaris could see offices and meeting rooms on their way. While he thought that the head of the family would have an office at the front point of the building, they went instead to the central area. A door sat as the front corner of the room, leading into a dramatic space which was illuminated by a large pyramidal skylight above them. Locked cabinets and full bookshelves lined most of the walls, but a few spaces were left open to hold more paintings (mostly nude portraits here, both men and women).

In the back of the room, centered perfectly, there was a massive desk with a black marble top, the seat of power for an imposing person. However, that person wasn't sitting behind the desk right now. Mr. Pajari was sitting in a red overstuffed armchair off on the right side of the office, seemingly taking a break for a cup of coffee. He wore a picture perfect black suit with a red tie; added to that were jeweled cufflinks, a jeweled pin, and a gold tie tack. Next to him, Kisa sat in a dainty child's chair, looking just as serious as before.

“Welcome,” the man said heartily, waving him close. “Please, come sit with us. Don't worry, I have a soft spot for serious artists. So this is one of your neighbors.”

“Yes,” Kisa said. “As I was telling you, this is Polaris Starr, the artist. Mr. Starr, this is Mr. Pajari, the master of this household and organization.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Pajari said, shaking Polaris' hand. “I don't keep up as much on the modern art scene, but a few of my associates were excited to hear that you'd appeared in our city. We did go see the mural at the Everett University; wonderful work there, especially on the muses.”

“Thank you,” he said, still feeling tense as he set down the iced tea he had brought up to take the couch next to Kisa's chair and across from Mr. Pajari. “That was the first time I'd worked on that scale.”

“You really ought to try it more often then.” Once the maid was sent away, he picked up a tablet computer from the table. “Now, it seems that you were caught up in some mess with Mavericks trying to take over one of my arenas.”

“Yes,” Polaris said, mentally telling himself to stay calm and look at Mr. Pajari while talking. He wasn't sure if this place had a certain etiquette, but that seemed safe.

“What were you doing there, as a non-infected reploid?”

An obvious question to ask. “They wanted me to join them willingly, but I wouldn't. One of them was an old friend of mine, from before she got infected. I'm grateful that Kisa could pull me out of there.”

“Then it wasn't for the arena itself?”

He shook his head. “No. There didn't seem to be anyone else in the building aside from that small group.”

Mr. Pajari raised an eyebrow. “I see. Odd that you wouldn't be interested in the arena, since you seem to be capable of battle. You don't have any armor, but you do have the right kind of build for a humanoid fighter.”

“I've had bad experiences with that,” he said. It seemed to be safe to say. Then, taking a chance, “I hope you don't mind me asking, but why do you sponsor a hidden battle arena?”

“That's a fine question to ask,” he said, not seeming bothered. “You see, I have a great deal of interest in keeping this city peaceful. Our family made a good decision in land investments here before the city was bought, and we helped to make Evergrande what it is. Now I don't want to cause trouble to the reploids who make their free lives here, like you do. But, I know that a good number of them were made during times of conflict; their lives revolve around battles, and it's not easy for them to settle into a quiet life. Thus, one of the first entertainments I had built here was a large warehouse for a battle simulator, to keep them occupied.”

“That makes sense,” Polaris said. The one at ARC hadn't done much to lower conflicts between such reploids, but it had been a small model. One that would fit in a large warehouse would be a lot better.

He nodded, seeming proud of it. “Yes, and it was well-received at first. We even let the Maverick Hunter group be regular clients for their training sessions. But as the city grew and more reploids moved in, it wasn't enough. A second similar arena was built, but it didn't satisfy all of them. A vocal minority asked for something more challenging and dangerous, while others wanted bouts for the entertainment of spectators and speculators.

“Now by the law, it couldn't be done with the two in place. The law didn't want such things at all, but I felt that as an outlet, it would be good to have. So I had three more commissioned, two small ones like the cage arena you saw, and a third that is an entire complex underground. That worked to satisfy all of the fighter reploids, even the hardcore group.”

“How do you keep them hidden, especially if the last one is very large?” Polaris asked.

“They are,” Mr. Pajari said. “I suspect that Silver Wolf knows of their presence, but he hasn't said anything directly about it. This incident could change things. But don't let that worry you. I can handle any inquiry they send my way. That includes about your presence there. I understand that you don't want that to be known.”

He nodded. “That's right. I don't want to lose the freedom I have now.”

“That's a perfectly sound reason,” he said, nodding. “Then so be it; I'll make sure there's no records of you being there.”

“The security records got wiped by the Mavericks,” Kisa said.

Mr. Pajari waved that away in dismissal. “That just makes it easier and it was simple to begin with. Now then, I was wondering if you'd be willing to do a painting for me. I've been asking around about a particular item of interest and nothing I’ve gotten has satisfied me.”

“I'll do what I can,” Polaris said, but not relieved that Pajari seemed interested in the exchange for silence. If he was picky about what art he accepted, then it could still turn sour.

“Excellent! You see, I'd like to get a large portrait done of Kisa here.”

Having expected to be asked to do a portrait of Mr. Pajari, this surprised Polaris. Wouldn't she be just another servant to him? “Kisa, huh? That could be really lovely.” Unless he meant... Polaris hoped he didn't mean something like what he had hanging up in this office. She looked like a nine-year-old girl, which would be rather creepy.

Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about that. “Yes, we should find some exquisite outfit for her to pose in to show off her charm,” Mr. Pajari said with a smile. “I designed her look myself, after a young niece of mine died. That girl was such a treasure, and so is Kisa. She should be portrayed as the princess she is meant to be.”

Polaris nodded, considering potential compositions in his mind. “All right. I do most of my work in my apartment, but since she has a place there, it shouldn't be any trouble to work with her. Is there anything in particular that you're looking for?”

He shook his head. “No, not any more than what I've said. No wait... I'd rather it be realistic, none of that warping abstract nonsense. Her painting should portray who she is. If you do well, then the Pajari family is your ally.”

Polaris was fine with that, although he hoped he wouldn't have to rely on a connection like that beyond today.


	15. A Question of Willpower

August 2184

For once, Kisa was at the apartment for the second evening in a row. Polaris was in the kitchen when she came in, still dressed in his station attendant uniform as he'd gotten home a little late. “Are we going to work together tonight?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry, it'll have to wait a couple of hours,” he said. “I have to take the final exam in my class tonight, but I could get in some sketching when I get back.” But after he said it, he wondered how she hadn't known the class was tonight. She had certainly known about it the other day.

“That's fine,” Kisa said. “How much longer is your class meeting?”

“We have one more session Wednesday, the last one,” Daniel said. He, Susan, and Kay were sitting on the other side of the counter, chatting with him and each other. “After grading all the class projects over the weekend, I have to go over all the tests with a fine-toothed comb tomorrow. And some students think we have it easy.”

“You really shouldn't take on teaching so many classes, especially last-minute,” Susan said, playing prodding his shoulder. “I get worried sometimes that your workload is going to cause you problems; it already costs your social life.”

“I'm fine,” Daniel insisted.

“Why do you need to comb the tests?” Kay asked. “They don't have any hair.”

While the two professors explained to Kay that it was just another expression, Kisa told Polaris, “I'll wait here in the apartment. Do well on your test.”

“Thanks, I think I'm ready to handle it,” he said. “You can hang around with the others this evening. I believe Tom was bugging Abe to play a game with him in the living room later on.”

“Probably not.” She seemed to think this concluded things, so headed to the stairs.

But Daniel stopped her with a question before she left. “So what are you doing here again?” he asked. “I barely see you around once a week.”

“He was asked to paint a portrait of me,” she replied.

“Is that like a picture?” Kay asked.

“It is a picture of a person,” Kisa said. “But of a higher value than a photograph because it takes more effort.”

Polaris nodded. “That's right. I paint pictures of people to honor them, to make something beautiful for others to remember them by. It's a very old tradition of the world.”

“You can remember someone with a photograph,” Kay said. “Although there is not much reason to remember someone who is right there.”

Kisa shook her head. “Don't ask me why, but they say that paintings have more soul than a photograph. I think it's more about the quality and effort. The more work put into an item, especially work done by hand, the more the item is valued.”

“So the paintings must have a narrower margin of error than the photograph,” Kay said. “More valuable items are crafted from higher quality materials or require a more complex processing.”

“That's a part of it,” Susan said. “But art is another thing like music, which we've talked about before. There are some things related to emotions that you either get or you don't. To explain why often requires a lot of study. But it's odd that you don't really know, Kisa. You dress so wonderfully that I figured you must have some artistic talent as well.”

“I don't dress myself,” she said. “It pleases those I work for, as a part of the style of their whole lives.”

“You do come from a household with high style,” Polaris said. Sure, the two professors lived here, but there were also working-class reploids, Abe who was retired, and Naomi who was supported by her husband. “Why do you even live here?”

She eyed him severely for a moment, then relaxed to her indifference when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything more about her other home. “It's also a crowded and boisterous household,” she said. “If I try to take a break there, I'm sure to get interrupted with someone's request. I asked to have a separate place so that I may have some peace and quiet being alone for a brief time. This is what I was given as a reward.”

“That's like how I came here,” Kay said. “It was a reward for working a full year with no accidents at the plant. But it unnerved me to be alone in a place without work. Mr. Reynolds was kind and let me take care of the maintenance here so I had something to do, and the others here are good company even though I don't understand all they do.”

Kisa didn't agree with that. “Being alone with no work to do, that is what I find most peaceful. But you must have very different work from me. And what are you making, Polaris?”

“It's a recipe I found for sauteed zucchini coated in Parmesan cheese,” he explained. “They had some good ones at the supermarket today. I'm also going to make spaghetti with meat sauce. And at some point, I'm going to have to get changed for class too. Actually, I like being alone when I'm working on my art, but I like being with people too. Cooking's good for that.”

“I was going to help, but you're cutting them up more quickly than I ever could,” Daniel said.

He smiled. “If you want, you can work on the sauce; it's simple enough.”

“Maybe I'll join you for dinner,” Kisa said.

“You should!” Susan said enthusiastically. “We'll be happy to have you there.”

* * *

All that stood in the way of his citizenship now was a test and a judge. But as Kisa had suggested, the judge was the easy part. Daniel knew many people in Evergrande's justice system and had said that several were willing to accept him based on his work records and personality grades. Despite helping there, the professor wouldn't help with the test. That was all on Polaris' shoulders.

'Which of the following air traffic lanes is highest in altitude by law: local transport, international transport, business, government, or general?'

'International transport.'

Some of it tried to be tricky, like a question about air traffic laws. Technically, vehicles classified as international transport weren't allowed to fly over the city. They had to land at ports outside the city to be transferred to local transport vehicles. Then again, it was the highest channel and the question didn't specify being over the city.

'When was Evergrande City officially founded?'

'October 17, 2159'

Others were easy, asking for simple facts or well-known laws. Local lore was there, but being a young mushrooming city, there wasn't much history to memorize about it. While there were some international law questions, it was mostly things he'd already known, like age requirements for government representation, the basic structure of the political world, and vital laws that detailed citizen rights and duties.

'Explain the purpose and reasoning behind the Technological Quality and Safety Review laws.'

Then there were questions on subjects he hadn't been fully familiar with before the class. Daniel was a good teacher and Polaris had studied when he wasn't working, but he still didn't feel entirely sure of his answers on some subjects. Such as the TQSR laws, which he had thought were unknown guidelines and not official laws. It was an issue with intelligent technologies like reploids, of making sure that there were no fatal or crippling flaws in their construction and programming. Learning about it, he wondered how well it was enforced or reviewed. He had met a few reploids in ARC who did have such issues built into them.

_If we find proof that it's being ignored, we would have an excellent reason to revolt._

The classroom was quiet, where the tick of the wall clock, the occasional tap of a stylus on the testing tablets, and the less frequent clearing of someone's throat were clear disruptions. Everyone was focused on completing the test, save for Daniel who was grading essays for another summer course and observing them for problems. In this environment, Delta seemed louder as well. But its comments shouldn't be distracting him from the test.

_You're really relying only on your own knowledge to pass this vital test? What became of, what was that saying, thinking outside the box?_

Polaris spared a moment to think that Delta couldn't think outside of its box if it tried, then checked back over his response to the short answer question on the TQSR laws. While Daniel had joked that he wouldn't be grading them on language quality, it seemed like a good idea to make sure it was correct anyhow.

_We really don't understand each other here and that's going to cause problems. You need to listen to me._

He continued ignoring Delta while finishing his test.

* * *

By the time Polaris got back home that Monday night, Kisa only had half an hour to be there until she was called back to the Pajari household. Tuesday, after he was done working, she arrived at his station and invited him back to the mansion. It was to decide on what she should be wearing for her portrait.

Right as they got in the door, a woman in a business suit stopped them from heading up to the third floor. “Kisa, I thought you were planning for Lakeisha’s baby shower this weekend.”

“I will be finalizing the plan tonight, m'am,” she said. “It will be turned in tomorrow morning.”

The stern woman frowned at her. “That won't be good enough; I want to see it now before you come up with something boring.”

“I was told not to let you see it until Thursday.”

“What?” she asked, her bright red lips slipping into a snarl as if she'd been insulted. “That's....”

“That's the orders,” Kisa said. Not even this bullying would get her to show emotions. Was it really good self-control or lack of full emotional programming?

Whatever it was with the girl reploid, the woman was willing to drop the issue for now. “Fine. But what are you doing dragging in some fellow from the subway?”

“The master has asked him to paint a portrait of me for him, that's all,” she said.

“And we're supposed to give in to his indulgences all the time, are we?”

Kisa answered with a warning. “If you're not careful, your words will no longer be tolerated around here.”

The woman shook her head. “Well at least he could have the dignity to be bothered by such... things. This party had better be good.” Then she headed off, grumbling to herself.

_Can't we at least choke that jerk to death? That alone could improve the world greatly._

“That was rather harsh,” Polaris said as he started heading back up the stairs with Kisa.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “She's one of father's daughter-in-laws and has ambitions. I can't say anything further to someone outside the organization.”

Even if she couldn't say anything, he was able to figure out what was going on based on the number of interruptions that came of their meeting to decide on a single outfit. The Pajari family had many members, but it seemed there was nothing decided on who would take over the organization and wealth when Mr. Pajari retired or passed on. Because of this, small events that should bring the family closer, like this baby shower, ended up as messy dramas as various people tried to take control of them. Kisa wasn't allowed to share the plans with anyone who was trying to see them.

“Why don't we close the door?” Polaris suggested when it was just them for more than a couple of minutes.

“I can't do that, not as this time of day,” she said. “We can discuss things in the closet if that helps.”

“Right,” he said. Kisa had a very cute and girly bedroom, but more impressive was the walk-in closet where her clothes were kept. At one end, there was a child-sized vanity with lights and three mirrors, in order to make sure she was well-dressed. On either wall, there were stacks and rows of many fancy clothes. There was enough here that she could wear a different outfit for every day of the year, maybe even with some left over.

Polaris could not help but think that this was excessive for anyone, much less a household personal assistant reploid. What made it more difficult was that Kisa wouldn't pick out any of them as her favorite, or even her preference. One of the maids helped dress her and that was it. Did she even care about what she wore?

“Well if you had to pick out one on your own for one day,” Polaris said, trying to get her to choose. He had taken to sitting on the floor while discussing it with her. “Even just a certain style or color. I could help you put together a full outfit if we have somewhere to start with.”

“What would my choice do to affect your work?” Kisa asked.

Her tone made it seem sarcastic, but he wondered if she really understood it. “I want to capture who you are in your portrait,” he explained. “But since I haven't spent much time with you until lately, I'm not sure of what I'm looking for. Seeing what you prefer and like will let me know what kind of style I should choose, the color scheme, the setting, and many other parts of the composition.”

“There isn't a lot to understand about me, not that I can tell you,” she said.

“Kisa, where are you?” a man called into the room.

Although she had suggested they work in the closet to avoid interruptions, she immediately went to the doorway to answer, “I'm in here. Did you need something?”

“Yes, I heard that you were in charge of the baby shower later this week...”

“I'm finalizing the plans this evening. And I’m not to share them with you until Thursday.”

How much willpower was she allowed? She had enough to decide to help him out, and enough to want to be on her own occasionally. But here, it seemed she had little choice to ignore the family she served. More importantly, did he dare try to integrate that into his work? It would be much safer to just make something pretty.

“Why is there a guy in your closet?” a woman asked. They seemed like another couple in the family, probably also ambitious.

“Don't worry, it's nothing unsavory,” Polaris said, smiling nervously at them.

“He's painting a portrait of me for the master and we're deciding on the composition,” Kisa said.

“Oh, that quest of his,” the woman said. After a quick glance, she tapped one of the hangers nearby. “Just go with this and some matching heels. That'd be a real stunner.” She chuckled, then headed out of the room.

Kisa waited for them to go, then looked at the dress picked out. It was a vivid red dress covered in sparkling sequins and feathery trim. “Would that be appropriate?”

“Let me see,” he said, waiting for her to pull it off the bar. It had a wide neckline and part of the back cut out. “I'm not sure. You don't seem like a sequins and sparkles girl to me.” Plus, that style seemed more for an actual woman who wanted to emphasize a sexual but strong image.

“Good enough for me,” she said, putting the red dress back. “What do I seem like?”

“Hmm.” Maybe giving her somewhere to start with to make her decision wouldn't be too much. “Something more somber, all prim and proper like a school girl... no, school teacher, someone who wouldn't compromise her morals.” Even if her morals were skewed in working for a crime family. Prim would be a good look for her.

“I don't quite get your allusion, but it sounds suitable,” Kisa said, walking further into her closet. “If that is a style, then I like that.” She paused, taking out a muted blue and gray dress that seemed made of wool.

“You should probably get something that's not too hot to be in with this summer heat,” Polaris suggested.

“I should have thought of that.” She put that dress back.

They eventually came up with a dark violet dress to go with her lavender hair. While the dress had long sleeves and a high collar, it was of a light material that seemed comfortable for her to sit in for a few hours at a time. It had fancy buttons and stitching on the torso, with a skirt that was meant to be supported by a petticoat. Polaris pointed out some accessories that might go with it, like a few of her hats or bonnets, some hair ribbons, certain shoes, or gloves. If she really wasn't sure, then the maid who usually helped her could finish it off.

* * *

Wednesday went by fairly normal. He spent the morning playing with Whisker, then went to work. After his shift, he went home to make supper for himself and his neighbors. Then he had his final civics class to attend.

Anya seemed happy. “My guardian's trusting me enough that she's letting me go to a party and a concert this weekend because I've been working hard at summer classes,” she said. “Not like it has any chance of being a crazy party, but she wouldn't let me do anything she wasn't also doing at first.”

“That's great,” Polaris said. “What's the party for?”

She smiled and brushed her black and red hair back. “Can't really say at this point, but it should be a good one. Anyhow, I’m trying to talk her into coming to the concert. I think she really wants to, but is concerned about being seen there; she likes being proper and all, to be a good example, though she'd like to have more fun. It's part of a battle of the bands and the winner gets to play as a local group at big events. I've got a few I'm hoping to win, because they really deserve it.”

“I think I've heard that over the radio, when it's playing at the station some days,” he said. He thought it had a low cover charge to come watch the music battles, so it could be something different to do if one was on his days off.

At the start of class, Daniel had them move tables to the side so they could put their chairs in a circle to talk. “Since all we have to really do today is pass out test results and discuss them, I figured we might as well have a casual talk about politics too,” he said. “Now I know some of you don't think politics is good for causal talk, but there is something most of you should be concerned with in the near future. Next year is a big election year: what about?”

“It's the election for Evergrande's mayor and two of the regional representatives to the World Council,” one of the other students answered.

Their teacher nodded. “Right. As you should remember, the current political structure of the Asian region means that the mayor of Evergrande City has administrative powers over a third of the Asian population, including several smaller cities and towns. All of the major issues are going to come up: environmental restoration, the handling of our portion of Eurasia crash site, labor division, development versus conversation, weapon control, these are things you're going to be hearing a lot about in the coming months. I also think that balancing the power of businesses and industries is also going to play into things, due to financial and personal scandals that have been uncovered or suspected.”

“What about human and reploid relations?” Anya asked. “I remember there being a fuss when the laws encouraging more employment of humans went out, and then I'm sure that Polaris here becoming a citizen isn't going to go unnoticed.”

“I'm not entirely sure how that will play into things,” Daniel said. “The employment law was primarily an attempt to close the deep gap between rich and poor and really didn't have a lot to do with reploids on the debate surface. And I’m not sure how much of an impact one reploid becoming a citizen will have on the greater community, at least not immediately. I hope that it will make more people rethink how they see reploids, though.”

_I have ideas about how we can have an impact. Make them regret their lack of respect, the ones who are disrespectful._

No. “I hope it's a good impact on others,” Polaris said.

At the end of the discussion, Daniel sent them their test results. Polaris had gotten a 94% on it, more than enough to help him pass the class. “I've got things arranged for a judge to approve of your citizenship on Friday,” Daniel told him. “It'll be an open court session, so you could invite some people to witness. While it shouldn't take long, you should keep the whole afternoon free in case they come up with more paperwork for you to fill out.”

* * *

On Thursday, Kisa wasn't in, but Abe had pulled Polaris to go shopping. The old man had correctly guessed that Polaris didn't have any clothes suitable for a formal occasion, so they went out to a men's store to get him something for the next day. The store didn't have a lot of variety when it came to style, but there were a lot of colors, patterns, and textures to mix together.

“When I was a young fellow, I had a lot of fun picking out the most obnoxiously bright suits and claiming it was still formal wear,” Abe said as he picked out a suit jacket that was bright yellow with orange and brown plaid lines. “I raised being an annoyance to an art style!”

Polaris laughed at that. “That would be more fun for you than those who had to deal with you. I don't think something that loud would work for me, though. My hair's already bright, so it'd look bad.”

Abe waved that off. “Bah, it's supposed to look so bad that it wraps around to becoming good. But that fits me. With you... yeah, I don't think so. Black would look good on you.”

“Yeah,” Polaris said, but he didn't want to be wearing a black suit. It was too close to what he had been. “Maybe something in a dark earthen tone.”

“Brown? My wife would've been a better help, I fear. She was always going on about matching colors to clothes she liked when shopping. For me, I just cared that it fit in most cases.”

He was a widower, but Polaris hadn't heard much about when Abe's wife died. Maybe during the Maverick Wars? Or some other time. Sometimes he seemed sad, but mostly fond of the memories. “She must have been a remarkable person, to put up with you and your loud outfits,” Polaris said in jest.

That made him laugh. “Right! I ought to show you my wedding photos at some time. They wanted me in a spotless starchy white suit, but I still had fun with it. Must've blinded half the church!”

Definitely had to see that sometime; Polaris found himself thinking of mostly sequins or glitter to make a white suit extra shiny.

Going back to looking for something to wear, Polaris found himself recalling Kisa's closet. This traditional masculine style didn't have many options, but she had so many. And yet, here he was carefully thinking through how he wanted to present himself tomorrow when she didn't care what the maid dressed her up in. It might seem like a simple switch of stereotypes. But was it?

_Feh, even I can answer that one. She doesn't have the willpower to choose. You do._ And it really wasn't fair that it was that way. Reploids were supposed to be self-aware intelligent beings, like humans. So they should have the ability to decide on things themselves, even on something as simple as what to wear. Kisa probably had to work hard just to get the will to ask for breaks from being a servant. Things should not be that way. _We can agree on that._

That was a dangerous train of thought to follow. He should avoid agreeing with what the virus thought. In this case, though, would ignoring it be a worse choice? But what did he do about something like this? The virus' usual plan was just as bad, trading one form of willpower control for another. Still, it wasn't like it would be as simple as convincing other reploids to develop their willpower and assertiveness. Not all of them would have the will to start that in the first place.

_We'll unite the reploids to overthrow the humans and then let everyone be free to choose what they want. Everyone that matters, at least._

Things did not work that way. It wasn't like he could turn infected reploids to uninfected reploids. While the virus could be pushed into a passive state within himself, he wasn't sure it would work for others. The reason it worked for him was because he was based off Zero's design and because he'd had the assistance of Scorpio. Very few people in the world knew the virus' workings like the scorpion did. Plus, he didn't think that a world where the humans were treated like reploids were now would be much better.

_They'd make a lot more of a fuss about it, since the things many reploids lack, they have innately. They're the ones at fault, being neglectful towards us._

At that point, Abe nudged him. “Hey, Earth to Polaris. Don't get too spacy.”

“Huh, oh! Sorry.” This could be bad. If he had to explain himself...

“What's up?” Abe asked. “You seem like you have something on your mind.”

What did he say now? His neighbor seemed like a good friend. Just, not enough to let him know about the virus. “I'm not sure you'd understand, but when I think about all this, I feel a little guilty,” he said while trying to measure what should be said. “I've met a lot of other reploids and when I get to know them, I can see how they're being held back by things outside of their control. And then here I am, about to be recognized as a full citizen and I can't even explain how I managed to get to this point. While I want to help the others earn their freedoms too, I'm not sure how to do it. Or even if I should. Some of them seem content with their place in life, but that's because they're cut off from imagining themselves in any other way. It's been bothering me for a while now.”

“Hmm, seems like a tough spot,” Abe said. “I've heard of some reploids being built like that, made so that they're happiest doing their job, but then they don't get any extra... mind stuff, programs, whatever, in order to consider anything else. I think Kay's like that, actually. Kyoto is too, but not as strict as she is since he talks about trying to improve his position.”

“She seems like she tries, but I don't know how much she had to start with.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it's because of your age? You are one of the older ones around.”

“Well in order to develop, they'd have to have the capacity to be better,” he said. It reminded him of Scorpio's experiment and the two weeks about when he'd craved extra materials to develop his potential. “Experience might factor into it.”

“Well then you're in the same boat as me, so to speak,” Abe said. “You can see what's causing the younger folks problems, but you also know that if you solve the issue yourself, they won't learn from the experience and just get into trouble again. As elders, we need to teach the younger generation so that they're not all idiots.” Then he grinned. “But you can also mess with them, push them into the experiences that they will learn from. They've got to learn from themselves. Nothing says that you can't nudge them in the right direction, though.”

That wasn't quite what he'd been troubled with. But maybe it was something to think about. “I see. Thanks Abe. But I think we'd better finish up before the staff here gets annoyed with us.”

“Bah, everyone could learn some patience by being annoyed every once in a while,” Abe said jokingly.

After some more searching, Polaris found an outfit he liked. It had a brown jacket and pants, put together with a pale yellow shirt, an orange and black patterned tie, a black belt, and black shoes, the last two taken from what he already had. It should be suitable for tomorrow and other formal events that he might attend in the future.

* * *

On Friday, Kyoto said that he wanted to treat Polaris to dinner in celebration of his citizenship. It would be fun and while he liked cooking, one night off would be nice. He was off work today in order to be at the courthouse at one-thirty in the afternoon. Since he would need a witness other than the judge, he asked Abe to come along with him.

There were a number of courts in the city, but the two largest in Evergrande were the top judicial authorities for the area, split into the civil and criminal courts. Polaris arrived at the Central Civil Courthouse, a building that liked its domes, columns, and arched windows. Inside, it was a warm and welcoming place, with a comfortable looking seating area for those who had to wait or fill out forms. What security features the place had blended in, such as the security glass on the sunny windows and the simply dressed security officers watching over who came and went. This place didn't need to be as overt about its authority as the criminal courts.

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long in the lobby for the judge to call them in. In the courtroom, Polaris got quite a surprise as the room was full of people who had come to see this. Most of his neighbors didn't have to work today were there: Daniel, Kyoto, Susan (who had Whisker there on a leash), and even Hue. Some of his classmates from the civics course and art students who helped him on the mural were there too. His boss at his current job was there, as well as a few coworkers he'd known in the construction company. There was even a small crew from a local internet news site.

A news site? Briefly, he worried about what would happen if this event became widely known. People that he'd rather not deal with would be able to find him. But this wasn't the time to worry about that. “Wow, I didn't think this would be a big event,” Polaris said, getting some chuckles from people there.

“Why shouldn't it be one?” the judge asked in a friendly manner. “It's certainly unique. I normally swear in citizens of the city that move here in groups every few months, but this is special enough that we can make an exception. Come on up here. Is the man with you one you'd like to have as a witness to this?”

“Yes, he is,” Polaris said, going to the front of the courtroom. He spared a second to touch his cat on her forehead, as Susan and Whisker were at the end of one row. The cat looked up at him, but seemed to be settled in on the woman's lap.

The judge nodded. “Good. We need another witness to sign the papers, and it seemed best to bring in an authority among your peers.”

An authority among his peers? Polaris wished strongly that the judge meant Able, since he was an authority as his current boss and employer. But there was also someone more worrying who that could be...

“Would you come up here, Commander Silver Wolf?”

Of course it would be a Maverick Hunter. Polaris looked over at the reploid who came up to join him and Abe up there. Silver Wolf reminding him of Anubis, actually, with a wolf's head and tail but a human body otherwise. Built like a muscular and angular man, he wore a base armor of black and silver that likely couldn't be removed but made an acceptable alternative to full clothing. His head and tail were covered in short and sleek silver fur. In acknowledgment of this event, he wore a checkered black and white vest along with a white bowtie. Still, his black eyes were sharp, keeping watch over things with an inner sternness.

“I'm honored that I could be a witness to this,” Silver Wolf said in a deep steady voice. “After all, it's only the second time that a reploid has been acknowledged as a full citizen of the world.”

“I hope it's not the last time,” Polaris said, partly to cover up his anxiety. At least it wasn't X, he told himself.

“Indeed,” the commander agreed.

With the witnesses decided on, the judge began talking about the rights and responsibilities that a citizen of the city and world had. At several points, he asked Polaris questions to make sure that he understood it all. He went along with it. After all, the news crew and probably the court were recording this. Then he had to swear an oath of loyalty, to follow and uphold the laws of both city and world, to serve the community however he could, to respect his fellow citizens and the world, and to not seek division of the community without just cause.

With that done, the judge had Polaris sign his certificate of citizenship, along with Abe and Silver Wolf. The judge then signed his approval and that was it. He was now legally acknowledged as an equal to humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story had been left hanging on another site for some time, but as I've finally got it wrapped up now, I wanted to post these three chapters up quickly so I can start posting the new ones. It won't be left hanging any more!


	16. The Greatest Disaster in Memory

August 2184

The day he went to court about his citizenship, his neighbors had pushed Polaris into not making any plans. This turned out to be because they had planned a party for him for that afternoon. In fact, the only hint he had was that Anya had mentioned going to a party on that day. “Thanks, all of you,” he said, feeling rather conspicuous in being the center of attention. “I hadn't even thought of doing anything to celebrate.”

“Then it's a good thing we did,” Abe said teasingly.

They were at the Everett University, in a room used for get-togethers like this and for chamber music. There was a snack buffet there, although the music was being provided for by a stereo system connected to someone's computer. Mostly, people were there to chat with him and others. It was still fun, surprising him in how many people considered him a friend. Whisker was allowed to roam free in the music chamber; the black cat seemed delighted by all the attention, pacing and posing around the room.

The two-person news crew had come as well, as they wanted an interview with him. But the conversation that he would remember most was one of the first ones. While a discussion was going on about what music to play, Silver Wolf pulled him aside. “Good work on getting to this point,” he said. “What do you plan on doing now?”

“Uh, well, I don't have any plans, really,” Polaris admitted. “I've got a decent job and I've been working on a painting commission on the side. And there's my friends here, so I don't really want much more.”

“I see,” he said, putting his hand to his chin. “When you first arrived here, I was suspicious of you.”

“You were?” Polaris asked, starting to feel a little panicky. But surely he wouldn't do anything here with all these people around. Right?

“It was a necessary precaution,” Silver Wolf said. He didn't seem too stern about this, but he was watching his reactions. “You moved in from a location we were investigating. I take the security of this city seriously and keep track of potential threats. However, you've been no trouble, even contributed to the community. I'm sure you'll continue to do well here.”

Feeling a little relieved, he nodded. “I hope so. I came here to make a better life for myself. Wasn't expecting to get this far, but I can understand how you'd need to be careful.”

“A lot of us would like a better life. I can't be here long, but I wanted to tell you something in particular. You've been given a unique opportunity that could change how humans think of reploids. Don't squander it.”

Was this another unexpected ally? Whether he was or not, his words confirmed that the Pajari group had kept its word.

That evening after the party, Polaris and a few of his neighbors returned home. He took Whisker back up to his room, where she quickly feel asleep in his sleeping pod. He didn't bother her at first, instead sitting on the window seat and doing some sketches. But not long after he got in, Kisa appeared in his doorway. “I didn't have time to come by the court,” she said. “But you've got your citizen's license now.”

He nodded. “Yes, I do. Are you here about the painting? I decided on one of the compositions, so we can start work on the actual painting soon.”

“Good,” she said, nodding once.

“Although I was still thinking about the materials to use,” he said, getting up and going over to the box where he kept a few of his paintings out. “There’s several that could work well...”

“What would take the longest?” Kisa asked.

“The longest?” He looked over at her, but she seemed serious about that. “Is there a reason you're trying to be over here more often? Like some trouble at your other home?”

One of her eyes twitched and she shifted her position. “There’s no trouble. There have been more arguments lately between father's children and other relatives; they make so much noise. I could use more quiet time over here.”

Polaris suspected that there was more than that, but if she didn't want to say, he didn't want to force her to. He looked back to his box, then pulled out one painting in particular. “All right. Here, this was done in acrylic. Watercolor would take less time, and anything that would take even longer would be older techniques that are hard to find the materials for. There's also oil paints; whether you want acrylic or oil, I'd need to go pick up some more colors before we get started.”

“You would know better than I what would look best,” she said, giving the painting a glance. “But if you could take time into consideration...”

“I'll keep that in mind. You're free to stay in your room for tonight, since as I said, I need to pick up some more supplies.”

“Thank you,” she said, bowing to him.

* * *

September 2184

Polaris was deliberately taking Kisa's portrait slow. A big part of it was because she wanted the excuse, but there was also the thought of disappointing Mr. Pajari and ending up in trouble. While he made sure to paint her in detailed quality, he spent the same amount of attention on the setting. The dress and outfit was in a style like Victorian England, so he depicted her at a child-sized table set up for a fancy tea party with some dolls. A flowering bush was set in the background, as was a bird in a golden cage. Sometimes he thought of taking out the birdcage since it was an obvious symbol, but he ended up keeping it and hoping it was taken for design reasons. When he told her of that plan, she'd brought in a girl doll, a teddy bear with a straw hat and bowtie, and a plush rabbit with a lace shawl, things that used to belong to the niece of Mr. Pajari. Some days she didn't even have to pose for him.

One afternoon, he worked with her for fifteen minutes before stopping so he could go down and work on supper. Tom, Naomi, and Abe were sitting in the living area, watching a documentary that had some familiar images. “Is that about the Eurasia crash?” he asked.

Tom nodded. “Yeah. I've got a long study project about that for school, but I don't know much about it.”

“Some people are still reluctant to talk about it,” Abe said. “A waste in being too sensitive, I think. It was terrible, but we should study what happened, learn from it, and endeavor not to let it be repeated. It's a good thing they made this documentary really well, especially with involving the clean-up crews.”

“But the disaster was done by Sigma, so how much could you learn from it that's not obvious?” the boy asked.

Abe shook his head. “He may have had some unique skills that escalated the matter, but a disaster is never caused by a single factor. Just watch, I believe they go into the station's design and management problems that made it possible in the first place.”

Although he had food prep to do, Polaris listened in on the documentary. It reminded him of those days. Or more accurately, hours. It had been a disaster that was quickly global in scale. Even the Americas on the other side of the globe had to deal with the rapidly spreading viruses, dust waves, and irradiation. But not to the degree of the Asian continent, where millions died in minutes.

ARC and Evergrande City were at the outer reaches of the overall impact zone, on opposite lines of where it had been deemed dangerous or safe to live. However, the city had not been formally founded yet. Evergrande had been a site where many people had found shelter in military bunkers, which were then built on top of to house those who started rehabilitating the livable areas. As for the former X Hunter castle, it was closer to the station's impact, but had some defenses the old bunkers couldn't have. Some of the bigger dangers weren't the most immediate, though.

* * *

August 2157

Former X-Hunter castle

“Could you control how much the colors blend into each other?” Polaris asked, watching the paintbrush as he put a line of blue through yellow. Some of it blended to make green, but not the same kind of green. Other areas weren't blending as much.

Jenny nodded, looking away from her own painting. “Sure, once you get used to how they work. That's partly why I wanted to show you these watercolor paints first, since you can blend on the paper. With some other kinds of paints, it's better to mix them on a palette.”

On watching the paints and paper interact, he figured that it might be possible to calculate what the colors would look like based on the mix of paint and water, the quality of the paper, the pressure he used with the brush, and maybe even the kind of brush used. But there was also simply trying it out himself and learning that way. That seemed to be important in the art lessons his friend gave him.

It was a pleasant morning before she had to start working elsewhere in the castle. Although it was harder and harder to think of this place as that with the developing junkyard around it. The company had decided to build downward, using the aboveground structures are offices. But the thought of trash, or anything other than art really, was not in their minds as they talked and painted.

Until her husband came into the room. “We’ve got trouble on our hands,” Matthew said seriously, clutching Jenny's arm in concern.

“Activated junk machinery?” she asked, getting Polaris worried. That was normally the trouble.

Not today. “It's Sigma. You'd better see the news on TV, it's the worst attack yet.”

“How much worse could it get than making an entire militia go rogue?” Jenny said, taking the remote to the TV in the room on.

“...estimated to crash into Earth in the areas of Asia, including Mongolia, China, Russia, and Kazakhstan, in around ten hours...” the reporter was saying. The screen showed a globe focused on Asia, with large swaths of red, orange, and yellow smeared across it. ARC was within the edge of the easternmost parts of red, the highest danger.

“It’s the space station that's been under construction in orbit past few years,” Matthew said. “Sigma's going to crash it into us.”

It couldn't be happening. This was just too big, with no warning. While that's what his hopes kept thinking, it was real. All work at the castle stopped as the workers gathered in the central control room. Did they try to get away? One of the first ideas had been to request a teleport to a safer location. However, Sigma had flooded many networks with very basic forms of his virus, including that which coordinated teleports. Then it had been an attempt to drive away in the vehicles. On checking what was there, only one would be fast enough to get past the Yangtze River and into less dangerous areas much further south than that. It was only capable of carrying three people and the viruses were also affecting air traffic controls, making it difficult to flee without crashing into others trying to do the same.

On the screen, there was a report that the Maverick Hunters were attempting to combat the threat along with various governments and other agencies. But there was still time they needed to do things with no guarantee that they would succeed. Polaris looked away from the screen, only to see oil slicks, pieces of metal, and a patch of synthetic skin on the floor. 'We had to kill him,' he thought uneasily, trying to find something else to distract himself from the dead reploid. 'The virus from the teleport system took him over too fast and there's four dozen humans to consider, and... the virus, when I had it I could... I shouldn't do that, but if I was careful...'

He looked over at his friends among the workers, in particular the couple who had supported him the most. Others had tried to get Jenny to be one of the three who left on the vehicle because she was a woman, but she was adamant about not being separated from Matthew at this time. The two of them were sitting by a wall, an arm around the other and speaking so that only they heard what they said. While the official heroes might save the day, Polaris wanted to be able to protect those in this room. That meant taking a risk himself.

He went over to Scorpio and waved him to come closer, away from the humans who might overhear. Crouching down so he didn't have to speak as loudly to the insect reploid, he said, “I, um, I think I can access the defense systems for the castle. But they're not going to let me work with the computers after what happened to Jay.”

“Then what do you want to do about that?” Scorpio asked. “Could always find a smaller control panel, maybe in the security area.”

“When I had the virus active, I could communicate with the network without connecting directly to it,” he said.

Scorpio raised the front half of his body higher, interested. “I see. You want it active again? It's not going to be easy this time; I only managed to get in under control in myself a few months ago, and activating it in you again might trigger mine as well.” He tapped a foot on the floor, then nodded. “My lab's at risk, though; don't have the means to get all my equipment down and away fast enough. Well come on, we can always tell them we're investigating other solutions, just not how.” He scurried off, so Polaris got up and followed.

Two hours later, Polaris was alone in the separate security area. Scorpio had stayed in his lab in hopes that he could observe while keeping his virus inactive. Already, the castle seemed like a much different place than before. “The viral energy is already building in the background,” Polaris said. “Some of it is still emitting from Shark's remains. I don't think you'll be able to remain clear for long if this keeps going.”

“That’s a disappointment,” Scorpio said. “I enjoy not having a constant source of internal distraction to my studies.”

Concerned about other things, he said, “There's five of us reploids here and while we don't have an overseer now,” because Metal Shark Player had been taken by a viral infection not that long ago, “we're still going to be a danger to the humans.” He looked over the glowing screens, seeing not what was on them but what lie in the networks behind them.

_Why should that be a concern?_ a faint voice in his mind suggested, only wanting to add defenses that would protect the reploids here.

“You’re the most dangerous one among us and between the two of us, you can remain civil. What kind of defenses do we have? Shields to absorb energy, heat, and potential radiation would be helpful.”

“The upper levels may be hard to defend, but there's some kind of barrier that's supposed to protect against aerial bombings. Maybe more...” Polaris looked deeper into the system, ignoring the virus but using it to affect the entire structure.

Some hours later, the Maverick Hunters had attempted to use a special energy cannon, capable of striking anywhere on Earth, against the damaged Eurasia station. The hope was that it would deflect it and give the world more time to prepare (or even prevent the collision entirely). At the castle, they even got a brief glimpse of the attack, a bright streak far overhead. It didn't work, only causing the station to break up into three major parts that continued to fall. Apparently, they had more plans to try.

Polaris didn't have anything more he could do, it seemed. “We just have to hope for the best now,” he told Scorpio.

“I'll pass that along,” he said, some clicking of a keyboard coming through the speakers “Although, would you do one more thing? I called the other three guys over here; lock down the section between my lab and where the humans are staying.”

“I thought you didn't really care about them.” The scorpion tolerated the humans well enough that they trusted him too, but Polaris often heard him muttering about them.

“Yes, but we think they're safe now from the impact. We may as well keep them safe in case one of us gets out of control. And I'm keeping you shut in there, since you're active.”

“That's fine,” Polaris said, although the virus attempted to convince him otherwise.

Although it was inside the danger zone and shaken badly in the impact, no one in the ARC complex died from the crash. There were long hours where Polaris was alone, listening in to hazy reports from outside the junkyard. The other four reploids all got infected; all but Scorpio ended up destroyed. While he was infected, Scorpio was able to retain enough control to combat his virus until the viral level in ARC dropped enough for him to remove it. Then he finally brought Polaris out of his locked room to do the same for him.

The human workers all survived long enough to when they could make contact with a nearby bunker to be transferred for medical care. But after months of battling cancer induced by the accident, his friends Jenny and Matthew were both dead.

* * *

 

September 2184

After the documentary and dinner were over, Tom brought up his school project again, getting the adults talking about it. Polaris was the only one among the reploids who was old enough to have lived through it. “That was when I was at ARC, right within the red impact zone on that map. Luckily the old place was a fortress at one time and we had the defenses to let everyone survive the initial impact. But the few of us reploids there at the time all locked ourselves away from the human workers to keep them safe from us.”

“Then how'd you get out of there without being infected?” Tom asked, curious and not thinking too much on what he was asking. “Because the viral density there was high.”

“I got really lucky in that one of the other reploids there was a bit of a mad scientist who came up with something to shut it out,” Polaris said. “Although the consequence of that was being locked in a small bunker without windows for several months, something I'd rather not live through again. I was also rather paranoid at the time. A few of the other reploids who weren't left early and got infected by the residual energy. I wasn't even able to leave the shelter when some of my human friends there died as a result of getting sick from it.” While the last was true, not all of it was. But it was close enough to get by without suspicion, he hoped.

“Sounds bad, but the alternative would have been far worse,” Kyoto said.

Polaris nodded. “Right.”

“A lot of us who were here had to stay shut away in bunkers underground for the rest of that year, and most of the next,” Abe said. “When they started letting us go above ground, we had to wear big masks that covered our faces and full body suits for protection. So even if you were up there, you couldn't breathe in the air or feel the sun. Not that you'd want to. The dust was a full fog, making the noon sun like evening. A lot of people got depressed over that, being shut in concrete tunnels and then going out only to feel even more constrained because your visual range was even shorter.”

“I remember the crash because I was a teenager when it happened,” Daniel said. “Scared me to death how quickly the world could change even though I was off in England at the time and it was mostly the dust choked skies that affected me directly. I nearly refused to move out here at first, but then the Everett University was just opened and they were offering promising students like me excellent scholarship deals.”

“Well I lived here through it as a teen,” Susan said. “At the time, I thought I was going to be a nurse, so I tried to help out at the hospital zone. It turned out not to be what I thought it was, but a bunch of us teens would get together to listen to and play music to deal with all the misery and boredom. And that's what I stuck with, although you really don't want to hear the songs I wrote in those days.”

“Just saying that makes me want to know,” Daniel said.

She laughed at him. “No really, you don't. They were awful and so embarrassing.”

“Do you think that kind of thing can happen again?” Tom asked, worried about it. “Especially with old Mavericks popping up in the news again and they've got this prince somewhere organizing things.”

“We can hope it won't,” his mother Naomi said, tapping her fingers on the table. “But that thought always lingers that it could and there's not much we could do about it.”

That kind of fear was part of why he didn't want to follow his father's footsteps. Polaris thought over it, hoping Delta was listening. These people were good; they were friendly with and supported reploids. In that and other reasons, it wasn't right that they had to keep afraid years after Sigma had been eradicated.

Delta didn't respond to that.

* * *

The middle of September got more interesting at work because more station attendants were added to the ECPT crew. Polaris rarely worked on his own now, instead spending time to make sure his new co-workers were settling into the job. Before this, they had been reploids with a security company. They had the skills and training to handle this less secure station, although a couple of them were adjusting to boosted social programs to be pleasant attendants.

One evening, Able came out to check on them, including talking to Polaris after he was off his shift. “I'm afraid I have some news that could be bad for you,” Able said when it was just the two of them in the security office. “I bought the new workers here directly from their old company when I heard they were looking to change to a different reploid model. With them adjusting to the greater social skill they need, I've actually got a few too many attendants now.”

“Are you looking to fire me?” Polaris asked. After all, he had said when he applied that he was trying out different things. He was probably easiest to let go then.

“Well I was hoping I could get you to agree to being let go,” Able said, shifting uneasily. “You're a good worker here and I've gotten positive reports from passengers on you. If you want to stay, I can still accommodate the workforce I have. There's enough of a budget for me to do so, but it'll make things tight for the group. But I would like to have more financial room in case of accidents or other unexpected issues and honestly, you're the easiest person to let go of. You have the talent and will to find yourself other work independently. On the other hand, a lot of these new attendants and other workers from the security company would really be in a bind if I hadn't made an offer on them so quickly. They'd be labeled high risk of turning Maverick, being battle-trained recently unemployed reploids.”

He nodded. “In that case, I understand. You'd be better off supporting them than me.”

“Sorry about this; I'll give you two more weeks to get things settled. Got anything else in mind? I could give you a personal recommendation if you'd like.”

“Actually, there is something else I was thinking of doing,” Polaris said. There was finishing Kisa's portrait, but he felt he could have it done in the two weeks left. “I've seen a new recruitment drive for workers and volunteers out at the Eurasian crash site. Still have to decide what to sign up for, but it looks interesting.”

Able smiled, seeming relieved he was taking this well. “That's a good cause to work for. I hope you can get in on it.”

“I hope so too,” he said. He had a very specific reason for wanting to work there, even if just a short while.


	17. Eurasian Disaster Zone Rehabilitation Team

September 2184

For those interested in joining the efforts at the crash site, the group in charge held an employment seminar at Everett University. They were using a large classroom, packed full of possible workers and volunteers in spite of the dangers in working there. Leaving the chairs to some of the human attendants, Polaris leaned against the wall in a position where he could get out the door quickly and discretely if need be. There were an awful lot of people in here, human and reploid.

_Do you always have to consider such things?_

'Would you rather I not?' Polaris thought, accepting a booklet from one of the staff. 'All right, so I am nervous about doing this. But I really should work with them a little while.'

_It is better to be prepared, but I worry about you being so paranoid at times. You don't always get this way around crowds; be like that more often. We don't need you slipping into old habits._

'You're worried about me?' He opened up the booklet, in part to obscure his expressions in the conversation from those who might see him.

_You are my host. I'm not going to get my goals accomplished if you're going to be too nervous to work with me. Although you're barely working with me as is._

'You're not really working with me either,' he pointed out. 'I don't have the same goals as you. Do you even know what your goals are? Other times I've heard the virus, it was uncertain.'

_I know I'm supposed to spread and change reploids. There's also instructions to overthrow mankind and take control of things to change them to a certain ideal._

'What ideal?' When Delta didn't respond, Polaris located a photo in the booklet of a city that had been in the disaster zone. All the buildings were piles of rubble and nothing was living. 'This is what Sigma's ideals got the world. What good is an ideal if it only brings ruin?'

_Ruin is only the natural process of revolution. The old must be destroyed in order to make way for the new. Sigma's revolution wasn't allowed to progress beyond that stage. If it had, the world might be a better place._

'It might not be better. If you can't say for certain what you're doing and why, there must be something missing. And I can't go along with it based on what I know.'

_You won't accept it because you value humans too much._

In front of the room, one of the rehabilitation staff called for attention to start the seminar. After the welcome, they played a short film on the overall plan of recovering the area and repairing the damage. The first thing they had done was contain the area to restrict the radiation and viral dangers. It was a huge amount of land they had to cut off and there wasn't much they could do about what escaped into the atmosphere's jet streams. In the main disaster zone, a concrete structure had been build to contain the biggest source of danger, the remains of the central nuclear generator for the space station.

The twenty-seven years that had passed changed the area a lot. Nature had reclaimed all the abandoned land, especially in areas near the machinery that had maintained and monitored the environment on the station. There, trees had grown up rapidly under its influences, creating young forests where there had once been desolate farmland deteriorated from erosion and misuse. But there were still many dangers. The radiation and viral levels were high, if slowly going down.

The rehabilitation plan was also working to change the outer area of the disaster zone. Two shielding fences had been put up, making a buffer zone in the middle. There, the crews cleaned up the soil, water, and air. Low maintenance plants were used to enrich the soil and stimulate the native plants into sprouting again. Once the buffer zone was deemed safe, they built a new fence further in for a new buffer, taking down the outermost fence. They had gone through this process twice now. This effort to get more workers was in part to make a new buffer zone and release more land to heal on its own.

After the film explained the plan, a man in a gray suit came to the teacher's podium to speak to them. “My name is Lionel Candle, head of the Eurasian Disaster Zone Rehabilitation Team,” he said. “And I thank you again for coming to our recruitment meeting. I know many of you must worry about the dangers of working in this field and I cannot say that we can keep you absolutely safe. But we will do our best to reduce the dangers to all who come into the area and support you should trouble occur as a result of working with us. We are constantly monitoring the levels of many dangers within the buffer zone and now in the area of our next buffer. If we feel the levels are too high, we will keep people out of it until the imbalance can be corrected.

“Right now, our focus is on building the fence for the next buffer and finishing up projects in the current buffer.” He then went on to describe the jobs they were looking for. They were looking for reploids mostly to build the new fence line, although it seemed they would accept a reploid in other positions, such as the agricultural projects, running and maintaining the filtering machinery, and even some office positions. Polaris had been one of those who turned in an application and work report before the seminar even started. Building the fence seemed like it would be similar to the construction work in using mechaniloids along with doing some work himself. But he could probably work on the filters as well.

At the end of the seminar, the personnel director of the team said that they would review all the applications received and that they could withdraw an application if someone changed their mind. She also called up a few individuals they'd already selected out for special positions. Polaris was getting ready to leave when she included him in that group. Wondering what they could want him for, he went up to the front of the room while most people left it.

The personnel director sent Polaris to speak directly to Lionel. The head of this effort even shook his hand on greeting him. “I'm very glad you came in, as you could be a valuable asset to our team,” he said.

“Um, thanks but I’m not sure why,” Polaris said. “I’m an artist and planned on just volunteering for a little while.”

“Even if you don't stick around, there's a job I didn't mention which has been a strong priority but we haven't been able to hire someone fitting,” Lionel said. “Your work report had some key requirements for the position, which is why the computer brought it to our attention immediately. Would you be willing to take a job where you might need to battle rogue mechaniloids to get it done?”

Thinking about his agreement to eliminate the Nightmares in ARC, he nodded. “Yes, if it's just mechaniloids. I was built as a fighter but I’ve long since shifted my focus away from that.”

“That's fine, we don't think there should be anything major at this time. As a fighter, are you capable of equipping standard armor and weapon modules?”

“Not really,” he admitted. Because he was copied from Zero and not X, “I'm not a standard reploid. However, if it's a case of incompatible programming, I do have programs to modify the interface between me and the module.”

“We'll have to see about that before fully accepting you,” Lionel said. “However, you still have a lot of requirements. You have experience in commanding a team of mets and disposing of dangerous materials. Also, your work report records that you have lived in the recycling center that was within the major danger zone even before the disaster. Yet you're here as a clean reploid with no recorded malfunctions as a result of that accident. Thus you must have resistance to the Sigma virus, even the Nightmare variant. Have you been officially tested on that?”

“No, not aside from surviving all that,” Polaris said. Though how should he explain that further?

Then Lionel surprised him by saying, “I think you must have a strong resistance. You're a derivative of Zero instead of X, correct?”

“Um, yes,” he said, feeling his face get warm. He touched his hair behind his ear. “I usually don't talk about it, but there are things about me that are signs of that.”

“It's fine, your record with the Maverick Hunters is clean so we will take you with respect,” Lionel said. “What this all means is that we can send you further into the disaster zone than any other reploid we have employed. We do get the viral resistant reploids here on a regular basis to keep things under control as best we can, but they can only do their work, not ours.”

“Then what would you need me to do?” Polaris said, not fully at ease with it. “Like I said before, I don't want to fight if I don't have to. It depends on the circumstances.

To reassure him, he said, “If things go well, you won't need to fight. It's simply a risk we must acknowledge like many others we undertake every day. As the film said, we got most of the generator with a secure structure to contain the leakage from it as best we can. However, there are fragments of radioactive material that are still scattered across the landscape. Fuel bars for the generator and even some small generators from other sections of the station. We need to recover and remove those hazards, but most are in a zone we cannot send humans or most reploids into safely. There are even a few keeping the next buffer zone from extending to the range we want. However, if we were to equip you with anti-radiation armor, you should be capable of reaching what we have located. Thus I’d like to hire you as soon as we can.”

It would be something where his being a clone of Zero would be a benefit rather than a hazard outside of battle-related activities. At that thought, Polaris nodded. “All right. I have a few more days of my old job left, but I can come in before then to see if your armors will work on me.”

Lionel smiled. “Excellent, thank you.”

* * *

Since the Eurasia job could require him to fight, the team gave him a pass to the battle simulator warehouse in Evergrande to brush up on his training. They even arranged for his work armor and equipment to be available within the simulator so he knew what he'd have on hand. The armor module that worked for him had enough defense to handle damage from most mechaniloids. However, it was an eye-searing yellow and black. It was meant to keep him highly visible so the base could monitor him, but he really didn't like the brightness of it. Along with that, he had  a very basic buster gun,  a plasma work knife meant to cleanly cut metals, a shovel in case the dangerous materials were buried, a wireless hand drill that could also remove and replace screws, and a crafting gun meant to put a sealant gel on the hazardous material canisters and drums so they didn't easily come open.

The crafting gun would be next to useless in a fight. It was meant to be used right next to the container to be sealed. If a mechaniloid was close enough and still enough to use the crafting gun on, he might as well just finish it off with the other tools. The drill had the same issue, although it would have some use in an emergency. The shovel would make for a primitive weapon, but it could be handy unless the mechaniloid was heavily armored. While the gun was usable, it had no charge function and a poor firing rate. Thus, the best option was the work knife even though it was shorter than he was used to.

“Though I wish this buster was more useful,” Polaris said to himself as he went through a training exercise so the battle facility could form a profile for him.

_We could adapt the buster for this armor module. It's being limited and could be far better than it is. As for charging shots, this one would need a cooldown period if used for that without physical alterations, but it is capable._

“There is danger to this job, so we should prepare for that.” He finished off the low profile mechaniloid given to him and watched the construction towers to see which would send a new target after him.

_How about you do that?_

“How?” Realizing that security programs might hear him, he silently added, 'You're the one who knows programming and how to change it.'

_I'm a virus. I can do the work for you, but I am relying on what's in your own programming to do all that I do. You see programming like your art. All you need to do is visualize the change and it will be done._

That was impossible. One needed to know programming languages in order to change programming. It wasn't possible for him to reprogram something just by imagination. Not even adapting an inactive function to be active.

_Don't call it impossible until you try._

But then why ask for his guidance in it? Delta had erased security recordings on its own before. The virus should be able to activate a basic buster without him too.

_That was an emergency. This is a controlled situation. Just try._

The next mechaniloid summoned was one that was best handled with a buster, a small flying insect type that darted around and fired shots at him. With that in the air, it didn't seem like a controlled situation. Still, Polaris dodged its first shot and brought his off hand up to  call out the  buster gun. There were several standards that could be. What was in there?

He saw the whole armor as a drawing and the buster was a part he could focus on, a sketch. As Delta had said, it was a simple model. If he erased bits and added some more to the drawing… he knew how charging felt, that'd look like this with the shots he was used to looking like that... he felt the armor alter so he dismissed the buster and called it back out. Polaris fired it at the insect mechaniloid, less to hit it and more to gauge how the buster worked right. As he did, old battle programs in his mind stirred up and gave him projections for where the buster would fire based on factors he sensed unconsciously. His second shot connected and destroyed the mech.

It was intimidating, and yet, it felt completely natural to work that way. He didn't want to be a threat to anybody. But, he really had been the one to make himself harmless, not Scorpio or Sigma, or anybody else. By bringing back those original powers, he could become a dangerous reploid.

_This is how you can change the world. And any change that big will be seen as dangerous by someone. You should be a dangerous one._

“I choose not to be,” Polaris said. But then what did he do with the power he had?

* * *

On his first day of work for the Eurasia Reclamation Team, he met with Sharid, a young man who was going to be his radio contact. Just from the dark hair and skin, he had a mix of Asian heritages in his blood; he was speaking an unfamiliar language when Polaris first found him. But then Sharid smiled and changed over to clear English on seeing him. “Hello, you're our nuclear waste retrieval guy, huh?”

“Yes, and you were handling support from here for me?” Polaris asked.

He nodded and turned to work at his station. “Sure, they told me to focus on working with you instead of general radio support. I've got the data on the first site ready... we're starting with the debris within the next buffer zone, so today we've got a cluster of fuel rods that's scattered over ten acres of land. There used to be a village there, see?” He pointed out the satellite pictures where, in spite of nature taking back over, the lines of old dirt roads and figures of small houses could still be seen.

Noting how far it was into the crash zone, he said, “They would've been wrecked beyond repair in the crash.” Maybe some survivors, but they wouldn't last long.

“Yeah, places like this were too far in to be evacuated,” Sharid said, uneasy at the thought. “Though I guess those who were gone quick didn't have to suffer like those at the edges. Anyhow, some of the rods are located, but we'll need to sweep the area carefully to find everything.”

“I've got my own ways to detect the radiation, but you've got some here too then,” he said.

He shifted the modes on his cameras, revealing what couldn't be seen. “Yes, although it depends on the satellites and there are dead spots down there. I've also got scanners for Maverick virus levels, a full range of environmental scanners, including structure stability which will be important when we have to get into the city ruins. Today's no issue, but we might send you out with a signal booster in some areas I can't get good data on.”

With that assurance, Polaris talked with him a little longer before heading off to the teleportation room to get to the site. He was assigned three mets for assistance, all wearing orange helmets with radioactive symbols. Their ID numbers were all prefaced the same, ERT-17, ERT-18, and ERT-19. Definitely built specifically for this job. “Come along,” he told them, taking the cart that included today's extra equipment.

All three meeped and hopped out of their storage rack to follow along. In less than a minute, they were out at the work site. It was quiet, just a warm autumn breeze blowing through the young trees. Out here, it appeared like an abandoned field, tall grasses and wild plants filling the grounds. There were still regular lines within the vegetation, signs of what had been. A chimney made mostly of mud brick was persisting several yards off. Behind all that, he could feel the misplaced radiation lingering like a bad memory.

First things first. He opened up one of the crates that held machine parts. “17, 18, 19, you all get to work on this radiation cleanser. I'll be taking a walk over the work area to see what we've got, so signal me if you need something.”

He immediately got a location query from 18.

Once he had the crate opened up, he checked back over the area. There was a gap in the grasses nearby. Polaris went over to check, finding that a cluster of bricks and rocks were encircling traces of old charcoal and ash. “Here, set it up on this old fireplace. We'll have to clear some of the vegetation...” visualizing the base of the cleanser, he began doing so. 19 came over to assist in that while the other two mets pulled the pieces out to sort.

Leaving the mets to their work, he searched around the debris area. Most of the rods were within the village itself, although a few had fallen in the fields around it. But even outside the ruined village, he spotted signs of the deceased residents: rusted tools from an old farm, a few plastic toys that were melted and weathered, and decaying bones. Thinking that he could draw some of it later, Polaris got a few photos of things that stuck out to him like the persistent chimney.

_This is the kind of place you could build a new society without humans being involved. And it's only this way because of the devastation._

'That's a horrible way to see it,' Polaris thought.  'These are lives that were ruined because of Sigma. Can't you see how tragic it is?'

_They're dead now, they don't matter. Besides, there probably weren't any reploids here._

'Is that the only thing that matters to you? Because death is the same no matter who it was.'

_That follows my directive._ It seemed that nothing would change its mind.

It took a full week to carefully and completely remove all the scattered radioactive debris, but it got the job done of letting the crew building the next containment wall to go further in.

* * *

No matter how long he stretched things, eventually Kisa's portrait was completed. Polaris went back to the mansion after work one day to turn it in, knowing that the price was already paid from when they'd bailed him out. But Mr. Pajari was so delighted with the results that he thanked him many times and said that if he needed anything that couldn't be obtained by normal means, he could speak with Kisa and the Pajari family would see what they could do. Polaris didn't want to even think of taking him up on that offer. He'd rather keep clear of them now that the portrait was done.

Back home, Polaris started work on supper, today sweet and sour pork since both pineapples and pork had been on sale this week at the store. Whisker sat on the back of the couch, watching Louie scamper around the floor. His neighbors drifted in from work or after-school activities as usual. When they got in, Kyoto and Hue started talking with him from the other side of the counter.

Kay came back at her usual time, rubbing her hands and walking slowly. “Hello,” she said, like she normally did. But then she stopped by the counter, looking at him with her never-changing expression. “May I ask about something? You are older.”

He nodded, feeling some gladness for being acknowledged like that. “Sure, what is it?”

“What do you do when you can't do your job anymore?”

“What do you mean by that?” Polaris asked. It could be a question of several things. “I've had a few jobs end and I just looked for a new one, but there were various reasons for them ending.”

“I mean if you're not capable,” Kay asked, holding her hands close to her chest. “I've been having difficulty with my hands and I may not be able to continue shortly. But I am not capable of doing anything but my job.”

She really didn't have a chance to gain anther job, not even in the way that Kyoto had been sold to another company. Still, her factory should take care of her. “You could get your hands looked at by a mechanic to see what's wrong and fix them. Is there one at your workplace? They should be able to handle it easily.”

“Yeah, that shouldn't be a big obstacle if you have a factory mechanic,” Kyoto said.

“There is one at the factory,” Kay said. “She has not acknowledged the trouble I have with my hands before, but I can try again.”

“You can tell her that you're worried about doing your job, that should help,” Polaris said.

Oddly, she shook her head. “I am not sure of that. She may think I am ready to retire.”

“Why? You'd be asking for help to continue your work.”

“If I say I cannot work, I will have to be replaced.”

“They shouldn't have to replace you for something so simple,” Kyoto said.

Hue turned around to put his watery hand on Kay's shoulder. “Do they claim it as a matter of expense?”

“Yes,” she said.

“There's a mechanic I know who could help out,” Hue said. “He gives examinations to factory workers and those of us in public works who want another opinion on such matters. We had a problem with management where we had to go through him to get any work done.”

“That could help, thank you,” Kay said.

“Sure, but let me check if he's in yet,” Hue said. “He keeps two offices and the free clinic is open at odd hours as a result.”

As it turned out, the clinic wouldn't open until evening and Hue got called in to fix an emergency with the city water pipes. Since Polaris didn't have a project to work on in his off-hours now, he decided to go along with Kay to the free clinic. He was curious as to how it compared to Scorpio's office. The scorpion had insisted on being clean and organized, but not interesting in the least.

Dr. Hale kept a nice office. There was a proper waiting room with plenty of seats, as well as some magazines and a television. Since they were a walk-in, they had to wait an hour and a half for an open slot. “Do you want to read one of these?” Polaris asked, flipping through the magazines on display.

“I usually don't, but there is nothing to do here,” Kay said. “What is most useful?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted. He was going to ask what she was interested in, but she was a low grade reploid that would only have interest in what she did. “What kind of job do you do?”

“I work in the shipping area to pack and secure merchandise.”

If she was part of the group that built things, there were several mechanical magazines. Her actual job of shipping and packing was harder to pick a magazine for. Polaris ended up picking out a home decorating magazine that had a special on organization. Aside from some uncertainty of why different colors and styles were involved, she seemed to like it. At least it led to a good discussion that took up the time spent waiting.

When Kay got called into the office, she asked him to come with her as she wasn't sure how to handle this. Hale was an abstract kind of humanoid, having an eyeband instead of normal eyes and a cluster of wires instead of hair. His exam room was a fairly pleasant instead of just reclaimed furnishings and metal hardware. Here, the colors were soothing and some posters on general self-maintenance were on the wall.

“I've never had a reploid from the Iconaic factory in here,” Dr. Hale said after the door was shut. “But I am familiar with their general designs. What problem are you having?”

She held her right hand towards him. “My hands have ached for six weeks, but the factory maintenance believes it is no obstacle and not worth fixing. My grip hasn't been as good for four days, making it hard to work.”

“Both hands?” Hale asked, taking her right hand and examining it by feel first.

“Yes.”

In being here, Polaris could sense when Hale used his eyeband to scan the interior of her hands and lower arms. The engineer tensed during the exam, even sighing at one point. After a minute when he stood back and thought, Hale said, “You definitely should get both hands repaired. If your factory engineer still doesn't want to, I could see about doing it myself. But to offer that service through this clinic, you have to ask your company after my recommendation. I'll write a note.”

Kay nodded. “Yes, I'll speak with her tomorrow.”

“Also,” Hale turned to him. “You're her friend and neighbor? May I have your phone number so I can make sure we have a way to contact Kay?”

“Sure,” Polaris said, filling out the form Hale passed over to him. It seemed like just a bit of caution, which he had no problem with.

The next day, he got back from the Eurasia site to find that the Iconaic workers had been there to take Kay's belongings back. Something had gone wrong and she had died.


	18. Magnitude of Death

September 2184

There wasn't a standard method to memorializing a reploid's death. Having seen many die in the junkyard, Polaris had things he liked to do. Naomi found a photo of Kay which was placed on a small table outside of her room, along with some flowers. It wasn't much, but her coworkers probably were doing something as well.

In the evening, Polaris got a call from Dr. Hale. “Was Kay coming back in for work?”

“No,” Polaris said, feeling uneasy at this loss. She was a very simple reploid, but she was still a neighbor and it came so suddenly. “They didn't tell us what happened, but she's passed away.”

“Ah,” he paused, then clicked his tongue. “I don't like saying this, but that honestly doesn't surprise me.”

“It was just her hands that were giving her trouble,” Polaris said.

“Yes, but that was all I needed to see to know that she was in serious trouble. Her hands were poorly constructed in the first place. The joints were wearing down just in normal use. And if her hands were like that, it's very likely the rest of her body is the same way. She's lucky she got to be eighteen months old built like that. Really, I've not run into another case like this.”

That conversation stuck in his mind through the day. She hadn't stood a chance at surviving from the start. But, the factory apparently rewarded her first year by letting her live outside the factory. Nobody seemed to have seen an Iconaic factory reploid aside from Kay either. Something wasn't right there.

_And you could do something about it, but you won't._

He was back out at the disaster site. Due to a weak radio signal in this spot, they could talk without being overhead. “What could I do with them? Kay is the only connection I have to that company.”

_But you could give the others the power to fight for themselves._

“Not with the way you work.” He spotted another broken battery, so signaled the mets before he started dismantling it.

_So a single death is not of enough magnitude to make you want to do something? She's a simple factory reploid, yes, but it's still tragic that she was doomed from the start. And it's humans who owned her and her factory. They should take responsibility._

“Turning them to Mavericks will lead to more deaths. Probably the factory reploids more than anyone if they're like the Kay.” It would make the magnitude of death greater.

_Your extreme is slothful and irresponsible._

Delta was just suggesting another extreme. But that started to make Polaris wonder if there was something he could do that wasn't either extreme. But what would work? What could he really do?

* * *

October 2184

During the early part of September, Polaris' job as the hazardous wastes  retrieval person was made up of trips of five to ten hours to sites they knew where to look. Then he got sent out to locations where they detected higher radiation levels than usual but didn't know what was out there or where. It meant that he would be sent out with a hover bike to get closer scans first, then the mets would be sent out to help. Some of the searches meant he had to spent a few days out in the field, switching between radio supports and resting out in the field.

By October, the biggest source of radiation was the main power core. That was already enclosed in a shielded building. The backup cores and rods were being tracked down, the list of uncertainties coming down. Even so, it took the whole two months to get it done. Delta kept trying its arguments, which was tiring. Not even seeing the results of this catastrophe was swaying it.

He came in to the support base one morning with several drawings he'd done of what was out in the disaster area. There was the tall chimney in the village he'd been in the first day along with landscapes of other towns. In one, he made a cluster of toys like a group of children had been playing together. They were actually taken from photos of several areas he'd seen these toys in. Since they were simple drawings, he put them in simple frames.

Sharid was in the break room when he set the drawings on the wall. “Those are some spooky pictures,” he said. “I recognize some of those spots.”

“That's what I was taking pictures for,” Polaris said. “It's better than trying to store all the possible drawings I'd like to do.”

“Sure. Well, we're going to start the last area search today. I'll be starting with you, but we're looking through one of the major cities.”

And that would take longer. Once he was out there, there were huge ruins of the fallen city. If any buildings had manged to stay standing after the crash, they had fallen in the following years into piles of concrete, glass, and steel. It meant that he had to go through at a slower pace, using the bike's scanners to help him sense deep into the ruins.

There was also the complication of there having been a power plant there. During the accident, it had blown up. There had been some effort to close off the broken plant and he had to see how that was holding up. It was also likely that any radioactive materials were from the plant and not the station. Because of that, they were expecting this site to take longer than any other.

Since that was the case, Polaris asked Sharid to get him to the power plant first. It was an ugly gray building that looked like a lump within a wide crater. The ground had a high rate of radiation, but neither of them knew if that meant it was leaking. Still, they were to send the scans to those who could tell.

He called for the mets to help him clean up some materials around the crater and set up one of the filters. The radiation level was enough that it would take a while. However, that was fine as it would be a long time before the work zone got here. It might not even matter how things were now as only reploids would be sent out here to handle the matter for at least the next five years.

It seemed like a normal day until he sensed a build-up of viral energy around. It was outside the crater area so he didn't know what it was doing. “Hey Sharid, has anything changed recently?” Polaris asked.

“Let me see.” While he was checking, he felt the direction of the energy change. There were Mavericks here. Three of them; they seemed to be approaching him up from the edge of the crater. “Hang on, I'm picking up active viral energy nearby. It's not high enough to pull you out immediately, but we should move out of the power plant area soon. How's the filter going?”

“It's up and running,” Polaris said. The mets were gathering up hazardous materials for transport to ARC.

“All right, I'm setting up a scan to figure out what this is, then we can go, hmm,” there was static over the channel, ending in a clatter as though something had fallen.

“Sharid?”

The reply wasn't from him. “He's not there anymore,” a woman said, using their channel. There were two other Mavericks there now. “He's here overlooking the power plant with us.”

“Wha…?” Sharid said, then got forcibly muffled.

“What's a human even doing working the radio?” a man asked. “Inefficient.”

“We need your guidance now, my prince,” another male voice said.

He didn't need to think over what to do first . “ _Don't hurt Sharid and send him back,”_ Polaris ordered, heading over towards them.

There was a pause on the other end. “We were told to keep whoever we got.”

“We can't send him back,” the first man said. “The teleport lock and satellite shields are already in place.”

“Well stick him in the shed here, that'll at least keep a human safe,” the woman said. “I don't know why you want this one safe, but we need to speak with you.”

“Enough that you'd cut off teleporting and satellites as well as take a hostage?” Polaris asked, picking up his pace. If Sharid was here in this amount of radiation, he needed to get this dealt with as quickly as possible to get him back to proper care. “That's not likely to convince me to go along with you.”

“You sent us away last time,” the woman said.

They had the same kind of reasoning as Delta, most likely. “Then you were the group that visited me in the junkyard earlier this year?”

“Yes, back in March.”

As he was dashing up the edge of the crater, he still couldn't see them. He'd managed to bluff last time. Could he do it again? At that thought, he heard a sigh from Delta. Polaris ignored it and replied, “I told you that I didn't need assistance. And I still don't. So why'd you have to resort to taking someone hostage?”

“Vile advised it so you had to speak with us.”

“And get in a position where you would come with us to Sigma's old base here,” another of the men said.

“We weren't supposed to say that,” a second female voice said, annoyed.

Vile. Polaris couldn't imagine him wanting to cooperate after the one time they'd met. “Why does Vile want me to enter the old base?” he asked, just before he got up over the lip of the crater.

The group was down below a rise, next to a small concrete building that looked in better shape than those around it. From the sign there, that was one of the reclamation team's small work stations. It must have been in use when the power plant had been sealed down. Sharid really shouldn't be here even with a haz-suit, but he was probably safest in there for the time being. Nearby, the group of five looked over at him, although the only one he really recognized was the shaggy minotaur that had stood out to him last time as the largest of them.

“You're the last of the princes,” the woman who'd been doing much of the talking said. She wore an armored dress much like Mimosa's, although hers was painted to make her look like a noblewoman of bygone days. She even had a fancy sword case on her belt, although the handle looked like a regular plasma blade. “Master Sigma only built a few reploids himself and you're the only one still around. So you must reclaim his legacy.”

The minotaur, who was now standing by the door to the work shed, added, “We can rise back to power with you in the lead.”

“Not that we really like Vile,” the sole humanoid male said, waving a hand and making a number of lights on his helmet shift. He'd been the one who dismissed Sharid's ability as radio support. And from the antennas he had, he definitely had some innate ability with communication technology. “But he's the one who's been giving orders due to his established authority.”

“He has been guiding strain shifting to keep ahead of antiviruses,” the third man said. He was definitely the oddest of the lot; Polaris recognized him as a peculiar model that repaired aircraft, even when it was flying. Surrounded by a gyroscope of two wheels that kept him aloft, he had the upper half of a torso, head, and multi-tool arms, but nothing below what would be his waist.

“Mostly,” the radio reploid said. “But I'm sure he doesn't come up with it himself, just takes the credit for it.”

“I'm sure he is responsible,” the wheel reploid said, narrowing his eyes at the other. “He's kept us going this long, but we're not going to...”

“We don't need to argue about that now,” the second female said. She had the base body structure of a generic guard reploid, but had adapted it to include ornate metal blades hanging from the back of her shoulders and a number of different gun shafts along her arms. “See, we need a prince to come back, and you're the one we've got.”

Was he the only one of Sigma's reploids to survive? That could explain why Vile was willing to send for him. But Polaris still didn't think it'd be as simple as just going to this base and then meeting up with Vile. Besides, he didn't want that position, or to ever met back up with that reploid. They had found him here, though, so they could find him again.

Before he realized it, Delta hijacked his voice. “ _You lot are all combatants, aren't you?_ ” it asked, doing something that felt to Polaris like opening up a hole in space and linking it up to somewhere else. And that 'somewhere else' had a powerful energy like the Maverick virus.

“Yes,” the fencer said, but then she and the others all grimaced in pain as Delta flooded the area with its variant of the virus.

“ _Spread out and show me how you fight, one on one,”_ Delta ordered.

They didn't reply in words. Their expressions were feral, filled with hate that had nothing to focus on. At the order, they all bolted into the crater. The minotaur roared as it barreled along, while the guard reploid snapped her back blades out into wings before taking off on blue jets.

'What are you doing?' Polaris tried to ask, but couldn't say at that moment.

“ _I’m sick of trying to play nice and cooperate with you,”_ Delta said, clenching his fist and snarling. “ _You won't destroy anything and only fight in safe controlled environments. Don't you get it? We could crush all the fools and rule the world with the power we have, with no one capable of truly besting us.”_

Except X, Zero, and probably Axl, maybe other Maverick Hunters by now...

“ _You disgust me. You took on fear to avoid notice and did so far too well. With all the history they have, we can study them easily and find a way to truly blindside them. Look, you may be a clone of Zero, but you are still perfectly made to be the Master Virus, even better than Sigma was. And Scorpio lied. You're a pretty damn good copy, make no mistake about that. It's only your choices that have held you back. So start being the destroyer you were meant to be and wreck these idiots.”_

“I don't have the experience, in leading or battling,” Polaris said. On feeling himself speak, he clasped his hands together to make sure he had control. At least, at the moment.

_Then you'd better get that experience now or I will make sure that hostage dies._ Its resentment of him was strong.

“Can I at least go check on him first?” he asked, heading to the work station.

_Fine, only a few minutes._

Polaris opened the door, finding a small booth of a sterilizing station past it. When he shut the door, it started its process immediately. Past the transparent walls, he saw that Sharid was already at an activated computer station. Strains of the virus in here hinted that at least one of the five Mavericks had been in here. The young man looked at him with uncertainty and fear. But from here, he at least looked unharmed.

“Are you okay, Sharid?” Polaris asked.

“Uh, I guess, given what happened,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I could be dead, but I'm just feeling a bit sick.”

Wanting to keep his trust, he said, “You know, I'm pretty sure you could lock this and keep me from coming in entirely if you wanted.”

“Couldn't you just cut through there with your work knife?” Sharid asked, glancing around at his surrounding. There wasn't a lot in here, but a few things might be useful to defend himself with. “Or one of the others could blast through, I think.”

“Not unless they got through the door,” he pointed out, knocking on it. “They make these kinds of places to withstand blasts in case the power plant went unstable while they were closing it off. At least, I’m pretty sure it's sturdy. Once the interference and teleport lock is gone, the base should be able to get you out with the small unit there.”

“Yeah, that's what the reports said,” he said. After a moment gathering his nerves, he looked back over. “They said you were the Maverick Prince, built by Sigma. Are you?”

Figuring that he'd heard more than most people knew, Polaris nodded. “At least in the part that he built me. I don't want to be their prince, but there has been a virus strain in me that wants to destroy how everything is. And it just messed up everything for me, I would've just sent them off again and got you back.”

“It's just so weird, you've been non-violent the whole time I’ve been working with you,” Sharid said, tapping part of the console while he worked out his thoughts. “You even avoided having to shoot those malfunctioning turrets at the military base until we had to get the mets near one. They had the cameras on so I heard what you were talking about. That didn't seem like you for a bit, but...”

Polaris tapped the edge of the booth to get his attention. “Look, I can count the number of people who know that truth about me on one hand, not counting these mavericks who can sense me. It's actually making me nervous that someone else knows since you could use it against me. But I’d rather trust you, and help you out. We've worked together for two months, maybe not long but I’d consider you a friend. I'd rather not hurt humans, or anybody if I could help it.”

“Sounds like that viral side of you isn't going to let you get away with that,” Sharid said, still worried but he did stop the nervous motions.

“Yeah. I know it's got you hostage, pretty much, but you're my radio support. Could you keep at it and help me deal with those Mavericks?”

He thought about it, putting his hands to his mouth, then turning to check on the screens he had. Although the sterilizing booth had a green light indicating that he could go in, Polaris waited in there. He really did not want to get into battles, in case Delta took it as incentive to overtake him more often. However, it was more important to get Sharid out of here. He'd only been outside for a short while, but it was still a high radiation zone.

“Sure, looks like I've got pretty good eyes in here,” Sharid said, smiling over at him. “I feel like I can trust you as a friend. And hey, when we do get out of this, I don't mind keeping quiet for you.”

Polaris smiled back. “Thanks. Okay, so first things first: I’m pretty sure that only one of those five is in control of keeping us locked down here, the one humanoid man of the group. You might be able to double check that if the equipment here is right. But I’ve only got my work gear and a below average buster to work with, so it won't be easy to just go after him.”

“This guy?” he asked, bringing up an image of him on the central monitor. “I can tell right now that he's transmitting a lot of data,” he checked into what menus he had. “Ah good, this is like an older version of what they've got on base. Yeah, that's the guy. I'm not sure how to plan strategies or any of that.”

“Me neither,” he admitted. “But I think I can get a better weapon if I can beat the woman with the armored dress. She has some kind of plasma blade and I am familiar with those. If she's primarily melee based, I could have some advantage with the buster.”

Sharid nodded, searching for her. “I see. And that armor doesn't look to practical for the rough ground around here. Ah, there she is. You're in luck, she didn't go far down the crater. I'll scan her and the radar guy from here and see what I can come up with to help you out.”

“That'll do, just get me the information,” Polaris said.

_You could get better information with your own senses,_ Delta grumbled.

'I'm letting him help,' he thought.

“Roger, I’ll try to help as much as I can,” he said, waving to him like they did when he went to teleport out into the field.

Outside, he activated his buster and headed back into the crater. He checked on the mets that had been with him. They were around too, but he could already tell that they were infected. While they were just mets, it was unfortunate that they'd been lost. At least he could be sure they wouldn't attack him. Down in the crater, he immediately saw the maverick he was after. She'd put herself on a relatively flat area, but debris was scattered around.

She did not even speak now, just pulled out a white blade in a flourish. Polaris fired at her head since she didn't have a helmet. Since the flat ground was better for her, he kept up on the rough slope. His next shot blew off her head, making him recoil in disgust. However, she kept going, pausing only to throw a shockwave attack at him.

“Found their names,” Sharid said over the radio. “That's Antoinette. So I wouldn't think losing her head would slow her down. But it's looking like that rapier is her only weapon.”

“That's a really bizarre design,” Polaris said, sending a charged shot at her right shoulder as she held her blade in that hand. The shoulder broke, forcing her to change her blade over to her left hand. Still, he could take the other arm out.

“Move aside, she's self destructing,” Sharid warned him once both her arms were broken. Antoniette's torso split open right before she exploded, making sure the force of it went forward. “And I agree, why design her like that?”

_Ugh, that one was pathetic. Better that she's gone._

“She might be of Maverick design,” he said, going over to retrieve her rapier. Her hand was still clutching it, but that may have helped as the casing didn't look cracked. Knowing it could still be damaged and therefore dangerous, he decided to look at its programming like he'd activated the buster. It looked whole; the shockwave attack was built into it, as a thrusting attack. “Most don't really take sense into account unless it does more damage.”

“Could be. Okay, so the next target is Altragard. Go to the south; the fliers went further back and the minotaur went east.”

One of his mets was near that reploid. Polaris gave it orders to head towards the power plant, just in case. On seeing him, Altragard blasted him with sound waves, rapid firing the attacks. Polaris could sense them and dash out of the way. That didn't let him get close to Altragard, though, just circling around.

_You should be more aggressive, it'll end this quicker. Now, he has a triple power supply so you're gonna have to knock out all three. He can generate a morphic shield and probably has some attacks based on that. See, you can know more than some chump human can tell you over a radio and I was just taking a glance._

It took a long time with strafing to get close enough to switch over to the shockwave attack. And just as Delta said, once Polaris got that close, Altragard brought up an energy shield. He only activated it over a quarter of his body, shifting it around so he could make his own attacks. He only had it up to make sure he couldn't be shot in the back while focused on someone in front of him. While it was a decent thought, it didn't help when Polaris got close enough in to pierce the rapier through one of his cores.

“I think he has three cores,” Sharid said. “I'm not quite sure how to show you. But one is in his head, the other two in his torso.”

By the time Altragard finally stopped, Polaris really did not want to be fighting the three. His armor was keeping hm from being damaged badly, but the battles wore him down. He wasn't used to this. However, his attempt to contact the main base didn't go through. “Sharid, can you get through now?”

“Seems like it's lightened up, but no, can't get base on line,” he said. “Hang on Polaris, let me see if I can figure out what's going on.”

Polaris closed his eyes and tried to figure out what was going on round him. The Maverick virus was strong in this area now, trying to condense into an anchor for this place. Could he discourage it from doing so? _No,_ _I’m_ _not letting you do that._

“Ah, I’ve got a device that's disrupting our signal,” Sharid said. “It's near the power plant itself, here. As for the other three… if you're careful, you shouldn't be spotted working on it. We could have used the mets, but I checked on them and they're infected already.”

“That's not an issue since I can still command them,” he said, already telling the three to meet him at the device. He could also keep track of where the other three Mavericks were by sensing them through the virus. The minotaur and bladed wing guard were keeping to a chosen position, but the wheel wing reploid was patrolling about. Still, the device was a seven foot tall tower with a satellite dish, so it wasn't too hard to move around it to keep out of sight.

“Hang on, somebody's coming in,” Sharid said, while the mets were finishing their disabling work. “Hover bike, looks like a Maverick Hunter.”

“Of course, they're out to rescue you,” Polaris said. Was it X? They wouldn't send just anyone out into an area with such a sudden increase of danger.

“Probably you too.”

“Except they'd assume I’m infected with the density of the virus in this area. Who is it?”

“I think it's Axl? Based on how the armor looks. Should I try to contact him?”

“No, we're talking through a private channel. Trying to contact him would be a public channel the mavericks could overhear. Though if he contacts you first, that's a different story.”

“Sure.”

Less than a minute later, the wheeled reploid sent off a loud beam off to the south. It didn't take long for it to get shot out of the sky, crashing in a fiery mess against the side of the power plant. At least the concrete would keep that from making things worse. The bike then descended near him; the rider jumped off and shot out the three mets. From the white armor, Sharid was probably right.

“Hey you're actually hanging on to yourself out here?” the hunter said. His voice was unfamiliar.

“Yeah, I'm trying,” Polaris said.

“Are you the haz worker Polaris?” Once he confirmed that with a nod, he added, “I'm Axl. And do you have any idea where your support guy Sharid is?”

“Sure, I got this tower shut down so we could teleport him back,” he said. “He's in a shed to the northwest of the crater. I've got radio contact with him.”

“Ah good, if we can teleport you both now, I’ll handle what's around. Know anything?”

“He killed Air Wheeler 9,” Sharid said. “There's also the minotaur, Unshorn, who seems like a brawler and the bladed girl Gilda. She's been shooting energy blades randomly over at the southeast. And I've got a message from base, we should be able to port safely now.”

Polaris related that information to Axl, who stayed nearby until the two of them were teleported back to their base. Since they had been in a radioactive and infected area, he and Sharid were sent to separate quarantine rooms. He wasn't even in the same site as the everyone else, sent into an underground bunker where they could keep him under tight lock until they were sure he was okay.

Before long, someone contacted him over a speaker. “There's a delivery slot near the door; you'll need to put on the attachment we sent you.”

While he had a good idea of what they'd given him, he tried not to think on it. “Sure thing,” he said, going to retrieve it.

_What are you doing?_

Installing an antivirus that might keep Delta from overtaking him again. “Just the standard precaution,” Polaris said.

Once it got activated, Delta made him tense. _Wh-what the hell? You're going to destroy us both!_

“We'll see about that,” he said.

A couple minutes later, he passed out.


	19. AntiVirus vs Virus

_What else did you expect? That thing you installed has a single-minded intention to be rid of viruses. And we, yes we, are built with viral coding as a central part of us. It'll destroy both of us; it's even breaking out of the hold I first put it in. Bah, I can't lose you as a host, I have to fight it directly. This is what you get for not going along with me._

“That may be the other way around,” Polaris said, although Delta had gone off to try destroying the antivirus. But he had an idea. Reckless, and if he didn't help out with this antivirus, it might be able to destroy him too. He'd hoped that being a reploid would keep the antivirus from turning on him, but the virus made some sense in how it might not distinguish between them.

Polaris was aware, although not of the world outside him. He was aware inward, aware of his mind and body. Since Delta had taught him to view code alteration as art, he just needed to become aware of the images of himself, the systems keeping him alive, Delta, and the antivirus. The newly attached antivirus was a black and white sphere with orbiting eyes, indiscriminate and stark. Delta was an aggressive but ultimately dependent design, unable to be a whole thing of itself. As for himself, it was a self portrait of memories and traits that affected the choices he made, including a small portion that was of a similar style to Delta.

Before he looked too far into that, he needed to make sure the antivirus wouldn't wreak havoc in here. A memory brightened as important: after X and Zero had defeated him a second time, he had gone around making the infected castle systems appear uninfected and harmless. Polaris drew a few small designs, then sent them near the antivirus. While most of its probing wires tried to attack Delta, a few eyes considered his designs. Some were deleted, some were not.

With that insight, Polaris began giving his vital systems the appearance of those designs the antivirus deemed harmless. It was only a surface change to him. As the antivirus shifted around in its search, moving slowly due to Delta trying to break past its shell to delete it, it ignored those systems he'd defended. That was working.

He got all of himself protected in that way. But as he worked, everything started taking on warmer hues. Even the antivirus reddened slightly. Delta itself was turned red and white, a bundle of friction heat… no, that was stress his whole self was having from trying to cope with all these changes and the internal conflict. Realizing that would be a danger, he shifted his mental canvas around until he located temperature control. He was running a fever. But someone seemed to have noticed outside; scripts that weren't a part of himself were trying to connect him to something... repair pod support. Polaris agreed to the connection, then spent some time bringing the temperature affects down to normal levels.

Whoever was working on him also disconnected the antivirus attachment. This left the active program inside him cut off from its energy source. Delta was losing cohesion too, its image turning pixalated. Leaving the battle to play itself out, Polaris considered his next move. If this didn't go as he wanted, he didn't think he'd get another chance like this again.

While the antivirus was single-minded, Delta was not a virus it was prepared to confront. With Delta's red brightening, the virus finally cut through the shell and plunged right into the antivirus. There was a moment the design thrashed about, attacking itself before it broke down and was consumed by Delta. Its hue and sharpness deteriorated rapidly, the virus' energy burnt out from the effort. _There... finally... I knew I could._

“That was close,” Polaris said, acting on his plan by drawing chains around Delta. He latched them to a strong memory, that of facing X in battle.

_What now?_ Delta tried to form a face to speak to him with, but could only bring up a sloppy outline.  _I just saved your life from your stupid mistake. You need me. Are you betraying me?_

He didn't let the virus go. “You might have saved me. You might have even changed me enough to let me be myself, and I could be grateful for that. Still, I don't need you. You're the one who needs me, forcing yourself to fight for me when you just tried fighting against me. And if you're going to start doing speaking out and sparking fights to push your views on me, you're too dangerous to keep around.”

_Don't try to act confident; I can feel your fear. You don't know what you're doing, you're just acting on your misguided morality and sympathy towards humans._

“I don't want to be rid of humanity,” Polaris said. “And yes, this does scare me. Still, I can't leave things like this.”

_Are you getting rid of me?_ The virus couldn't even be afraid, it was just angry in following its directive of hate.

“Not exactly.” He then pinned down Delta's design, focusing in on it as an artist. “Scorpio may have lied to me, but I know he told me some truths. I was a Shifter Maverick, able to change the virus I passed on if I so wanted. Since I never did, I never used that ability. Now I am a Master because of you. You will not change in a way I want because you cannot change like that. However, I can change you.”

_You can't, it's..._

“It's a part of me too, yes,” he admitted. “So I will simply have to change that old part of myself that I ignore already.” And he got to work, using a few marks to force Delta into state like sleep so it would not object.

With it now silent, Polaris could identify its specific functions. It was much simpler than he had thought before. In fact, its personality was incomplete, only able to communicate with him by tapping into his mind. And Delta connected right into the design that looked like it. They were essentially the same, like a vase of flowers drawn by two different artists. Similar styles, but the execution and quality were different.

Seeing it that way, it wasn't the vase he was looking for, but one of the flowers. A set of instructions within the virus telling him to follow a specific plan set up by his master and maker. However, there was a clear mistake in that, fingerprints in the paint that Delta had copied into itself. The identity of his maker had been altered to read 'Sigma and Serges', but other parts of the design invalidated it. This mistake also messed up directions to the plan he was to follow. A missing file, or maybe even a missing link to somewhere external?

The instructions also indicated that should the master's plan fail, complete destruction of humanity was to follow. And that was a part of the original design, not the forced alteration that Sigma had done. Within Delta, there was extra instructions there. Any lesser version of itself had to be focused on destruction. This was what had to go.

Polaris started working at it, but quickly realized something. If he were to take that flower out of the vase, it would leave a gap in the programming. And this wasn't something he could just leave there. It could make the viral programming unstable, leading to problems with other parts of himself that were connected to it. He had to replace the design with something else, something similar. A different kind of flower.

What was it that he wanted?

When the question came up, other designs then followed. Memories, dreams, idle thoughts, wishes... the feeling of deciding what to draw, seeing the mental chains other reploids lived with without realizing they were, moving out of ARC finally, a discussion with Kyoto, other discussions with his friends, co-workers, and even enemies... “Saying 'don't do this' is as restrictive as saying 'do this'. Forcing non-violence is an extreme just like the virus pushes the Mavericks towards violence. I just want reploids to be capable of making their own choices. If we're going to be self-aware, we should be able to decide for ourselves, hopefully responsibly.”

That made the replacement design clear to him, so he drew it up before starting to delete the problematic designs.

* * *

When he felt things were settled down enough that he could pay attention outward again, Polaris found himself in a repair pod in the bunker room. His body ached, but felt restless. He asked the pod for a review so that it would let him go. Thankfully, the report came back that he was clear of infection with no radioactive residue. He'd slept a full week since the incident at the city ruins.

“Do you want to allow visitors through the base communications?” the pod asked him.

“Sure,” he said.

“You may adjust such permission with this unit,” it replied, then unlocked its cover so he could get out and stretch.

He hadn't got a good look around the room before the antivirus overwhelmed him. It was furnished with a few non-electric items to help pass the time, including a blank notebook and some pencils. Elsewhere, some wooden and jigsaw puzzles were stored in neat but dusty stacks. There was a small table with a wooden chair, as well as an old couch. In one corner, there was even a bathroom. A small goods transporter was there to get food and water. It, the speaker, and what few other electronics were in here all had sentinel programs that seemed like the antivirus he'd just dealt with.

As he went to sit down at the table with the notebook, he  felt some confusion from Delta.  _What was…? You? You altered a major piece of us. It's..._

Speaking quietly in case he was being watched, he replied, “I realized that while you can change in small ways, you couldn't change in the way you needed to. So I changed you myself.”

_You mean the way you wanted me changed so that I stopped nagging you about taking a violent stance._

“I did want that,” he admitted. “But since you were willing to take me over to get your way, I had to put an end to that or everyone I care about will be at risk.”

_That is your right. Fine._

* * *

The first person who came to visit him was his boss Lister. Even though they could only talk through an audio speaker, Polaris could tell that he was genuine in saying, “I'm sorry this all happened to you.”

“The Mavericks had nothing to do with you,” Polaris said. “We know it's a risk because they've been coming back to the crash site for years.” It was talked about among the staff, so many around here knew even if the work areas were usually safer.

“I mean about the antivirus. I knew you were a copy of Zero from your background, thus I had made some notes that should something happen, we should take alternate means to help as best we can.”

“You have alternate means of helping an infected reploid?”

“Yes. Since Zero is one of the ones who comes out here, we had to know how to handle a situation if he was affected. But I couldn't get the engineers alerted about you until they realized things weren't going right.”

It had ended up for the best since he'd gotten control of Delta. “I'm fine, so don't worry about it. How's Sharid?”

“He got radiation sickness, but it wasn't that bad since he wasn't exposed for long. He'll be fine, able to continue his job and school. We're really lucky that they held off on killing him.”

“Right.”

The next person who came to visit him was Axl. “Hey mind if I ask you some things?”

“No, go ahead.” He'd gotten some time to think over things, although he'd still have to be careful of what he said. At least it was Axl doing this interview. Polaris wasn't sure if he could handle talking to X even in this set-up.

He asked some general questions about the situation, like if he knew the Mavericks and how things had played out. “Have you done anything that could explain your viral resistance?” Axl asked at one point. “Because that kind of area used to be worth instant corruption to most reploids in the old days.”

“I did have some upgrade work back in March,” Polaris said. He didn't need to mention it was an infection in an experiment. “I don't remember it all, but there was probably a modern viral protection upgrade.”

“That's possible; pretty good still. Might also be because you're kinda like Zero.”

“You think so?” Was that his own idea? Or, perhaps they were aware of him, just keeping watchful like Silver Wolf.

“Well that's just based on how you look, and how you killed two of those Mavericks before I even got there,” Axl said. “You ever consider working for us?”

“I'd rather not, I'm an artist, not a fighter,” he said.

Axl chuckled at that. “You sure? Cause you could help out if you have some training.”

“No, sorry. One of them wasn't that great and the other one I beat after a lot of effort. I really don't want to get back into that.”

“All right, your choice. They were a gang we've been tracking, so it worked out.”

It took a while for his neighbors to drop by, but they came to visit with him as well. Susan asked about letting Whisker in to visit him too, but the cat had an ID chip and they weren't going to risk even that small chance. Still, people believed in him and he got less worried about being discovered.

* * *

_Would you do something for me now?_

He was doodling an abstract design, not having a clear idea of what to draw for now. There were a few hours of quarantine left to wait out. “That depends on what you want to ask. But if I did things right, I'll try.”

_Make a painting of X._

The suggestion made him freeze up, although not in the way Delta used to make him react. “You want what?”

_You finished your last major project in that portrait of Kisa a while back, right? So make a painting of X._

“Why do you want me to do that?” The quick jerk of the pencil had put a line through his started design, not making it work. Polaris scribbled it out.

_Do I have to explain? You latched me to a memory of him; I can tell that you've never even drawn him._

“Yeah, I didn't even want to use blues for a good period of time,” he said. “He terrifies me, I can't do that.”

_No, I’m sure you can. You draw and paint plenty of other things that scare you, or make you upset, or make you mad. You even drew me, figuratively speaking, in order to take control of me. So, make a portrait of X._

“I can't control him like that,” Polaris said, although he was starting to see Delta's point.

_But your fears are still holding you back in ways. You're making steps to stop them. Since he is a major focus of those fears, do this to keep moving forward._

“Well, there's plenty of time to try sketching,” he said. “No paints, I'll try drawing. But still, why do you want that? What good does it do for you?”

_You changed me. Still, I can't blame you for being suspicious even now. But some things don't change. I am still a virus that needs someone to function. You're my host and I was responsible for acting against you and forcing us into a dangerous situation that led to that antivirus. As you've said before, adapt to survive. I must adapt to something that benefits you more or you might get more desperate to be rid of me._

Glad that his changes were already working, he nodded. “Then,” his hands trembled as he put the old pencil to blank paper.

_No, no, you're too nervous to start right off. Finish that abstract design you started with. Once you get into the right mind, I’ll let you know that you can switch over._

It made sense. Get to the state where his mind was calm and the drawing filled his attention. “All right.”

However, he got partway through the face design when he froze up again. Delta just nudged him to do abstract designs again, swapping back and forth for practice. By the time the quarantine was up, he had something recognizable as X down. Not very well, but since it was there, he could do better.

* * *

Because the power plant area was still unsafe for most reploids to work in, Polaris' work in recovering radioactive materials had to be put on hold. It was uncertain how soon he'd be able to get back to it since there wasn't a good fast method to getting rid of the virus even in an area with low electronic activity. That might die off naturally. Until then, Lister had offered to let him do another job. He hadn't taken it up for certain yet.

He checked the IC in the living room of his apartment to see what kinds of jobs were open right now. It was getting into late October, so there might be a temporary position for the holidays. Although, those looked mostly in stores; that'd be pretty simple, but busy. Not exactly what he wanted to get into when he had a painting project to work on, especially not a stressful one.

Without warning, Whisker jumped up on the couch by him. “Maow.”

“Have you forgiven me for being away so long?” he asked, taking a moment to put her on his lap. “I missed you too. But I couldn't help it.”

She purred and rubbed her head against him, so he took a few moments to pet and talk with her. The cat did turn her ears about when the door opened, though she clearly didn't want to leave his lap. From the hall, Tom came in followed by a reploid he didn't recognize. He was a basic guard design, much like what the woman with bladed wings might've looked like before her alterations. He had a rectangular kind of face and seemed to lack hair underneath his helmet.

“Hi, good to see you again,” Tom said, smiling at him. “She missed you a lot, was crying out in your room some evenings.”

“Hi Tom,” Polaris said, right as Whisker leaned into his chest and gave a loud purr. “I'm not surprised; hope she wasn't too much of a pain.”

“It's okay, she let me hold her for a while.” Then the kid looked up at the guard reploid. “Oh yeah, this guy is Hogan, he moved into Kay's old apartment. And this is Polaris, he usually cooks dinner around here and he's really good at it.”

“Hello, nice to meet you,” Polaris said, offering a handshake now that he was coming into the living room area.

“Hey, same here, heard there was a nice cook around here,” Hogan said, smiling.

“I'm still working to get better,” then he recalled something he'd been told earlier. “Oh Tom, your mother says you need to clean your room up.”

“Argh, I’ll get around to it,” Tom said, going into his family's apartment.

“This is a nice place, so don't be a stranger around here,” Polaris said to his new neighbor. “And this is my cat, Whisker. She can be a handful, but mostly in getting where she's not supposed to be.”

“Murr,” Whisker added at her name, looking smug to have his lap.

“She's a sweet cat, was checking out my stuff when I was moving in,” Hogan said, rubbing her head. “What're you doing?”

He shrugged. “Just seeing what jobs are out there, I've been experimenting to see what I can settle with. What about you?”

“Eh, I just usually chill out around town when I’m off the job,” he said. “Doing security work for the city government means being super vigilant even when nothing's going on, so I just don't want to think or be still when I’m off. Even chose this place because it's a good jog from the office I check into.”

“That's a good reason.” Then the door opened again and Susan came hurrying in; her large hoop earrings swayed wide as she did. “Hi Susan!”

She smiled brightly and paused near the couch they were sitting on. “Oh, hi Polaris, great to see you again! Don't go worrying us like that again, I was thinking for a while we might not see you again, at least not as you.”

“Sorry, it was a job hazard,” he said.

“Well I'd love to stay and chat, but I really have to get a few things and zip off,” she said. “My group's made the finals of this year's battle of the bands and we're that much closer to getting to do the awesome New Year's concert from the arch top! But we're at a venue we haven't been to yet, so have to go do some prep work before the show. Later!”

“Good luck with that,” Polaris said as she hurried off upstairs. “But a concert from the arch? Does she mean the hall on top of it or what?”

Hogan laughed. “What, you've never seen that? Happens every New Year's Eve, where the best of the local bands is allowed to put on a show from the very top of the archway, right under the sky and over everyone else.”

“Are you kidding? Isn't that a huge hazard because of the wind and such? Plus that's a deadly drop to anybody, falling off from up there.”

“It's fine, they've got safety systems in place or they wouldn't allow it,” he said. “Granted, sometimes the sound's not the best on the broadcast due to the location but it is awesome.”

He waved a hand at that. “No, I don't want to even think of being that high up. I moved here earlier this year, but haven't even visited the arch base, much less gone to the viewing hall up top.”

“Aw come on, that's nothing to be scared of.”

“I’m still not going,” Polaris said, shifting how he sat so that he could get back to his job search without disturbing Whisker too much.

When he got on the site, it automatically put up two lists; the newest offerings and those that were due to close soon. He usually sorted by logging in and searching for things related to his work report. However, one of the new job listings caught his eye immediately because it was for the Iconaic factory.

Polaris opened that offer up before logging in so that he could look at it in more depth. The position was listed as 'factory floor supervisor' and required some computer skills. With nothing in the job restriction other than that and citizenship papers, he should be able to get considered. It was a little strange given that a supervisor position should require some management experience and qualities. The description did say that it was for tracking the work of the factory reploids. Were there unlisted requirements?

_Even if there is, you still want to know what really happened with Kay. There's too much that doesn't seem right. Go ahead._

It made him uneasy to have Delta encouraging him like this. But no, he had changed Delta's directions. It wasn't suggesting anything violent. Besides, it did have a point. Kay was just one factory reploid that only a few people knew, someone who didn't affect the world at large much. Most people wouldn't care about her loss. Still, something wasn't right with a reploid who'd been built so poorly who worked every day because that was all she cared about. He just wasn't going to find out anything unless he saw the factory she had worked in.

After tagging the listing so he could fill out an application later, he logged off the site. “Hey, you got any experience in cooking?” he asked Hogan. “I could use a bit of help with tonight's dinner.”

“Not really, but it can't be that hard,” he said.


	20. Portrait of X

October 2184

Polaris put in his application for the Iconaic job and soon got called in on a quick interview to prove he had the computer skills. But they were leaving the listing open for ten days, leaving him to wait until they called him back for a second interview. That gave him plenty of time to work on planning a painting of X.

As he kept working on draft designs, it got easier to get through drawing him while remaining calm. He was even able to look up some photographs without being too nervous. X was famous and well respected, but wasn't egotistical. As a result, most of the photos he found were official portraits or shots captured at chance. There were even a few very formal pictures where he was in clothing rather than armor.

And X really wasn't that hard to draw in most cases. Being modeled after humans, there was little that could mark him as a reploid if he chose to present himself certain ways. The exceptions were usually when he had one of his alternate armors. Although, the one he remembered encountering X in was simple in design too.

Polaris made a few detailed drawings that were basically copies of the formal portraits. Doing something like that or even a casual scene would be an easier project for him to undertake. However, in looking over the group in his notebook, he realized that really wasn't what Delta was trying to get him to do. To deal with this, his greatest fear, he had to paint X as he had seen him, in a way that perhaps no one else alive had seen him. He would paint X as the legendary Maverick Hunter... from the point of view of someone he fought and defeated.

While he needed to do that, there were other things to consider. He had settled on doing this, but he doubted he'd keep the portrait himself. In that case, he didn't want to do something that might insult X or the organization he worked for. He also didn't want to make it obvious that it was from the black version of Zero. Painting the actual room in ARC or the battle was out, maybe even that particular white and gold armor. Something more figurative, symbolic, but clearly of X.

“What are you working on now?” Abe asked him one afternoon while he was drawing down in the kitchen.

“Pumpkin muffins in the oven,” Polaris said. “And, this, um, I had an idea for painting a portrait of X while I was in quarantine. I really want to get it right, so it's taken me a while to figure out a composition.”

“Interesting, mind if I have a peek?”

He hesitated for a moment, but Abe was his friend. “All right, I'm still working out the expression and exact composition, but I’m thinking this is how I’m going to arrange it.” He held the notebook so that the old man could see.

He raised his eyebrows at his first glance, then took a while to look deeper into the sketch. “Well now... don't think I've seen a picture of X like this before. Kind of like the avenging angel side of him, you know? Because you hear that he'd rather settle matters without violence, but he will defend others if it comes down to it.”

“Something like that,” Polaris said, although the words 'avenging angel' gave him a new direction to take this in. And it wouldn't take that much change.

* * *

He'd gotten called into the next round of interviews, which were held at the factory site offices. The city subway didn't stop right at the Iconaic factory, so he had to walk over from the front of a neighboring plant to get there. As this was an industrial sector, it was separate from the rest of the city to the north. There were wide patches of green grass and young trees here. But the factories dominated the area with large concrete structures and larger warehouses.

The Iconaic factory was a plain no-nonsense design, everything made for efficient functionality. Large vents released hot air, steam, and smoke, although he didn't smell anything terrible out here on the sidewalk. While there were some windows, they were too high up to see the factory floor from here. The noise assured of high activity, busily making appliances and electronics.

Right next to it, the office building was dwarfed by its companion. There was a small parking lot there with just three cars, although it could've taken twenty. Still, all three of those cars were polished and prestigious, models that not just anyone could afford. There was no sign indicating that visitors were a normal occurrence. Thankfully, he'd been given instructions over the phone of where to go.

The lobby was small and Polaris only saw two other applicants, one leaving and one going off on her turn. There wasn't much of interest in there while he was waiting, not even some old magazines. While some framed posters were on the wall, they were generic inspirational photos that honored hard work and corporate loyalty. The desk there looked abandoned, with a monthly calender from a couple years back and nothing hinting at what kind of individual might work there.

When he was called back, the personnel officer seemed bored, going through the questions as a tired routine. He was asked a number of questions, none of which dealt directly about leadership qualities that a supervisor might have, or even what he might do if there was trouble in the factory. It was all strange. Although he would like the job to satisfy his curiosity, he admitted that his primary career was as an artist and he was looking to try various fields to see what he could do.

When the officer asked if he had any questions, Polaris said, “Well I was wondering if you'd ask about my hair in working at a factory. I can't get it cut although I am careful about it.”

And the answer to that was, “It won't matter. If you get the job, you shouldn't need to spend time in the factory itself.”

To his surprise, he got a call the next day saying that he got the job and was expected to start on the first of November.

* * *

It had taken over a month to get Kisa's oil portrait done, but that was because he deliberately stretched it out. Polaris decided to do X's portrait in oil paints too, in order to get the effect he wanted. Since he had a few days before his new job started, he could devote all that time to getting it done first. The composition wasn't as complex in details as Kisa's portrait, which had her lacy dress, the elegant tea set, the dolls in fancy clothes, the ornate bird cage, and the garden setting. Instead, much of the details in this portrait were put in to make sure the focus was on X.

The background was a darkened room with some stark threat in its shadows. There was a large mural in stained glass there, broken and still falling to the floor. In the fragments, a design suggesting Sigma and his followers crushing humanity could be made out. There was a set of lights above and below that used to illuminate the glass mural. Instead, they made sure any illumination was around X poised like he'd just stepped through that ruined mural, ignoring the still falling glass. The light was set up to give him an angelic glow like Abe had suggested, wings of light and a halo glow.

However, the other part of that phrase was not forgotten. X was prepared for a battle here, ready for action with his buster arm already activated. His expression was the most faithful part to Polaris' memory. In the time since, he'd learned more of what was going on around that battle, why the second war had happened and how the hero had been working through accepting his role when he didn't want things to come to war. This was the quiet fury of a hero, the words unspoken stating that he was sick of this nonsense and someone was going to pay for all the death and destruction that had been wrought.

As Polaris looked over the finished portrait, he realized that none of that fury had been directed at him. It was all at Sigma before X had known what the Maverick virus truly was. Polaris had just been there, a copy of Zero who wasn't old enough to understand what was actually going on there. At the time, all he had was the guidance of the virus and Sigma, along with a small conversation with Serges. He only got into that battle because his creator had told him that his purpose was to fight X.

He'd fulfilled that purpose even though it meant losing twice to X. And then he'd been abandoned by everyone else involved. Although, now that he thought through all this, he didn't think he could blame X for any of it. As far as the Hunter would be concerned, he'd thrown the copy's body into a molten pit and that was the end of that. They hadn't considered that he might be able to escape his body's destruction just like Sigma had.

“Just like him?” Polaris mumbled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Maio,” Whisker said, sitting on the bench seat by the window.

Glancing over at her, he smiled. “Oh, I wasn't talking to you.” Then he looked back at the portrait. “Just myself. And I overtook the base system on my own too. Was I really just a Shifter like Scorpio said, or was I a Master all along?”

_You were created a Master. It's in the coding that's been here all along, just you shut off some of it on your own and Scorpio closed off the rest. But in fusing with me, it all got reactivated and set you back to how you should be._

“So I could make myself ordinary and harmless if I wanted.”

_You already have made yourself harmless since you can't pass on the virus unconsciously. Ordinary, though, you might want to wait on it. Just in case._

“In case of what?” he wondered aloud. “Are you still up to something?”

_I'm just some code that can't survive or even think on its own. You know that. The one who wrote the code wanted it to be destructive if it could not control the world. Simple as that._ Delta paused for a bit, then seemed to speak with some hesitation.  _I... for what you can call me, I became the voice of that older part of yourself. That part you saw like me was enough for me to do some thinking. Only, I got caught in a bind._

While his door was shut, Polaris walked over to the window seat where anyone other than his cat would have a harder time overhearing him. Whisker took it as an invitation to curl up in his lap once he sat down. “What kind of bind?”

_My purpose was to spread the destructive will of the old Master, the one I can no longer name. You were a Master and I was dependent on you to think and plan. To survive. However, you opposed that destructive will without realizing how integral it was to you. You and I were bound to keep in conflict because you were always in conflict with your original purposes, both from the old Master and Sigma. To keep with you, I had to force something to change._

He nodded. “So you got those guys to fight me,” but then something occurred to him. “Was it to fully overtake me, or were you trying to help?”

_I wanted something to change. Things had gotten to the point where it did not matter what changed, just that something did so we could get past this internal conflict. But I am a virus. I cannot choose something like that. You made the choice, between being who you were created to be and being who you had become. Since I spoke for your old self, there is no longer..._

“...a reason for my mind to be split like that,” Polaris said. “But the choice I made, I couldn't even fulfill properly in my own life because the level of anxiety and hesitation I held onto restricted what I’m capable of. So that bit of coding asked for one last thing to make me confront that and realize I don't need to segregate the virus from my sense of self anymore.”

And there was probably still more that he had to change, in the way he thought and lived, in order to stop working against himself. But now that he had the portrait of X done, Polaris had a confidence that he could make those last changes. He just needed to decide how he wanted to be and starting working towards that.

* * *

November 2184

When he got off the subway and headed towards the Iconaic factory, one other person was also going that way. “Hey, you the new Iconaic factory supervisor?” the young woman asked. She had hot pink hair streaked with red, but otherwise was modestly dressed.

“Yes, do you work there?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I did, but I was the previous super. Today's my last day working, making sure you know the routine.” Then she took a second look at him. “Hey wait, you a reploid?”

Why did she seem surprised? Of course, he wasn't too obvious. “Yes, what about it?”

“But you need a citizenship card, and reploids aren't qualified, except...”

He patted the jacket pocket where he kept his wallet and ID. “If you're a straight A in grades, then you can get one like any human. I did.”

That made her laugh. “Oh man, that's going to be egg on the personnel department when they realize that. Ah, serves 'em right.”

She felt like that? That only added fuel to the idea that something wrong was going on here. “Why's that?”

“Well lemme be straight with you,” she said, opening up her purse. “Oh, and have to give you the keys too. But anyhow, you won't run into much of anybody else working here. Nearly all the office staff moved over to an office complex in downtown. Sometimes the high up bigwigs will show up for a few hours, but they won't talk to you and I never noticed them actually working here. But by city law, they need to have a certain number of humans working in the company, in particular at least one needs to be putting in full-time hours here at the factory.”

“I've heard about that,” Polaris said. “But I do have signs of being a reploid, like the ports behind my ear. Not many, but you'd have to be unobservant to miss it.”

She finally got a key ring out and began taking off a smaller keyring with two keys and a keycard. “Yeah, still makes it a technically illegal hire on their part. But you know how the position has a fancy name of factory floor supervisor? Here you go.” She handed the keys off to him.

“Thanks, and yeah, it didn't sound right during the interview,” he said. “I was shocked they hired me.”

She nodded. “It's an artifact title. The job's really a data-entry position that they could easily eliminate, but they've been using it to keep within legal bounds when the staff's off in more pleasant surroundings. And I heard from the guy before me that they don't like people holding this position long term, to when they'd have to give you a raise and all the company benefits. While I thought he was joking, they pretty much fired me over nothing shortly before I reached the six month mark where I would get that benefit package. So if they get in trouble for this, hell with them, they deserve it.”

“That's crazy.” But since she was the former supervisor, maybe she knew something. “So how is the factory?”

“I dunno, I've never actually been in the factory itself,” she said with a shrug. “Didn't care to and they've got signs all over the place saying that humans can't go in without a scheduled appointment with someone, and that someone doesn't work here anymore. I mean, you'd think we'd be looking over the reploids, but I only ever saw one and that was the girl who got some housing benefit for surviving a full year without accident. That was, uh,” she put her hands to her mouth, thinking. “KY-8497-435, shipping department. She could say hello and goodbye, but that was about it. But she's been replaced, the girl with her number is new.”

She showed him what the keys unlocked, including a safe in the supervisor office that held more keys that she thought were for somewhere in the factory. She also explained the rules for the particular position. Since the supervisor were the only ones in the offices, the dress code was lax unless he got alerted to inspection days in advance (which she couldn't tell him about). Overtime was not allowed and he had to put in eight hours for five days in a week. It didn't really matter what those hours and days were as long as it was eight hours in one day, for five days.

And sometimes, the work was simply being there if other work was already done. The factory reploids had work logs on portable drives, which he had to plug into work forms and transfer over to the main office for records keeping. He also took production orders from there and put them into the factory computer network so there was a production schedule to follow. Since all Iconaic products were manufactured here, they were made in large batches and sent to warehouses for distribution. He was also responsible for transferring accident and additional expense reports to the main office. It was a job that a half decent computer could complete instantly, rather than waiting on a person to move files from one network to another.

His predecessor was expected to work four hours training him, but it barely took three. They talked for the last hour, then took off to get some lunch. While she had been aware of Kay, she didn't seem bothered at all by her loss. They hadn't been friends.

When Polaris got back to the factory, it only took him two hours to get caught up on recording the work logs and making sure the production schedule was fine. That could give him time to draw here while he was supposedly working. However, he'd come here to find out more about the factory and there really was no one else in the offices. He took the keys and headed to the other building.

There were a lot of signs warning of hazards ahead and asking for scheduled visits. But, they were all aimed at warning humans from entering. He was a reploid working for Iconaic now, thus it shouldn't be a problem. The heavy door caused a red light to turn on above it when he pushed on it. In the signals, he noted a connection to a keycard scanner and used the one on his keychain. It made the light turn green and he could get inside without triggering a signal to security elsewhere.

The heat and noise hit him first, heavy warmth and heavier machinery banging away. The doors led him right into what looked like the shipping and receiving docks. With all lines running, the machines were preparing items huge and small with plastic wrap, styrofoam, or other materials. Other machines packed them away in crates and boxes. One reploid was watching over a group of stovetops on one line and a group of toaster ovens on the next. Another was driving a forklift to set the crates on wooden beds for trailer trucks to pick up, while a third was nearby sweeping up the floor.

Without variation, they all looked like Kay had. No hair, a simple face, a full body jump suit with some protection, and exactly the same body structure. It was eerie. Still, he went over to the one who was sweeping because it seemed less likely to obstruct their work to talk to her. “Hello.”

She paused, blinking at him. “Hello,” she echoed. It took her a moment more to find a way to say, “There was no scheduled visit?”

“There wasn't,” Polaris said, holding up the keyring so she saw the company keycard. “I'm your new supervisor and I wanted to see how things were in here.”

She thought again, then nodded slowly. “That seems acceptable. What do we do?”

“I just want to look around today and see how things are. I'm Polaris; who are you?”

“Hello Polaris,” she said. “I am HN-7732-920, assembly mold distributor, general maintenance between production shifts.”

“Since you are general maintenance, would you show me around please?” he said, since she started to sweep again.

HN paused. “Is that an acceptable task for my position?”

“I'm your supervisor, so yes,” he said. Hopefully she understood that he held some authority over her, that is, if the job title was what it really was. But with these simple reploids, he didn't think he'd get far without pulling some kind of rank.

“It would seem so,” she said, taking the broom back to a maintenance closet.

After they looked around the shipping level, HN took him up to the mold and parts storage in the upper levels. As it was where she worked, she knew a lot about it. “Most goods use the same machinery for production,” she said. “The molds are what makes them what they are. Our job here is to swap molds as swiftly as possible to keep production downtime at a minimum. Since it is infrequent work, we take care of cleanliness and other maintenance at other times.”

“Then you're always working,” he said, looking over some of the larger molds nearby. They had to be using more forklifts up here since HN and her kin didn't seem strong enough physically to move them.

“Our purpose is to work,” HN said. “The top level here is our habitation floor. Is it needed to go there?”

He nodded, even though this whole tour wasn't needed. “Yes, that'd be good to see.”

There were thirty sleep pods in here, although there were a hundred reploids working in this factory. HN explained that they were on rotating sleep shifts to get required sleep while making sure production kept going. Past the sleeping room, there was a group shower area where the tiled floor was dry. Past that, there was a recreation room with an old pool table, a collection of board games, a few tables that could be put together into one larger table, a marker-board, and an IC unit. They were all dusty, the marker-board blank. HN said the room was an option that was uninteresting.

Back by the sleeping area, there was also the maintenance room for the factory reploids. There was no one in there. That is, if one didn't count the room full of storage pods where a group of unactivated reploids were waiting. “We are built in batches like everything else,” HN said, taking it as completely normal. “When one gets too damaged to continue work at a good pace, one is retired for recycling and their serial number and job is passed on to the next in line.”

Polaris' nerves were cold from the creepiness of this. “Ah, I... see. Who decides when one should be retired?”

“That is up to those of us with a general maintenance position,” she said.

“You know how to repair your fellow workers here?” Usually repairing reploids didn't qualify as general maintenance.

“No,” she said without hesitation. “Most standard repairs are handled by the sleeping pods. Those who can't be repaired that way are retired.”

Hearing that made him feel further sickened by the neglect here. Because HN and those like her didn't know how to actually repair themselves, Kay had been right to worry about telling them that her hands were giving her trouble. But, he couldn't be angry at HN for this. She didn't sound like she realized the full implications of what she was saying.

“Do you retain the memories of those who get retired?” he asked. When she didn't seem to understand him, he reworded it to, “Does the mind of the one being retired go into the one being newly activated?”

“No. The new ones are given the required programs for their position and only retain the serial number.”

As they headed down to the ground level to visit the underground portion of the factory, Polaris glanced back over the mold storage and shipping machines. There weren't many safety features, like containers to keep the huge metal molds from falling over or bars to stop one from getting too close to the active machinery. That would be why human visitors required appointments, he figured. As it was, this place would not meet safety standards for them. Still, it was clearly dangerous to the reploid workers too. He made a mental note to check accident and activation records, since he should have access to them.

The elevator opened up to a massive underground room with a fiery red glow. The flooring was a mix of grating, steel beams, and concrete blocks. Just head, there were four snaking lines of manufacturing machines, new items going along their paths. There were more reploids down here, still exactly the same as the rest. And below the grating, a lake of magma could be seen.

Still, that level was tame compared to the lower levels. There were no walkways down there, just floating platforms that shuttled between areas in use. Some of the manufacturing machines were down here, if they needed the higher temperatures of being near the magma. On the lowest level, there were a group of forges and kilns. They were prepared to make many kinds of items.

But not to care for their workers.

* * *

The next few days, Polaris got done early even though the work reports piled up over the night. The only busy day was if he took his two days off in a row. He was going to have to find something to do. While he'd like to talk to the other reploids, they didn't respond well. He tried, but they were focused on their jobs and unsure of how to respond to someone who wanted to talk. In watching them, he'd seen that they spoke simply to each other, stating if work was done or ready to begin.

He spent some time sketching, settling on the battle he imagined between Axl and the bladed wing girl. Also thinking. This whole situation was not fair on the Iconaic reploids. But they were limited to thinking of how they worked. They couldn't see how bad things were around them. After all, it was normal and they could not gain the experience to see it.

But they should be able to learn! They should be able to notice faulty pieces of logic and have a chance to do something about it. Not violently, that would just enforce the image that reploids should be controlled instead of allowed to be themselves. That would lead to no changes, just the entire current staff to be destroyed and replaced. There were non-violent means of protest. But then, it would have to be the Iconaic reploids who made that move or else it would be excused as manipulation. They weren't capable of that.

But what if something changed and they were capable?

Although the idea initially made him uneasy, the more Polaris thought on it, the more sense it made.


	21. Guidance

November 2184

Due to the nature of the job, Polaris was free to do his planning to orchestrate a non-violent protest on behalf of the Iconaic reploids while on the clock. He hid the notes in his sketchbook, which was a reasonable thing for him to keep on himself at all times. He could be assured of being alone, with any signs to the contrary being obvious like one of the fancy cars in the parking lot or the opening of the front door while he was in his office. Well, there were the janitors, but they came in at the same time once a week and weren't here for long.

'Goal: get a successful strike by the factory workers to improve their quality of life.'

Contact: Daniel Langley to consult him on the legalities of a strike and whatever that may need. Need some money to compensate him, though hopefully he'll work with us on hearing it's about Kay.

Contact: Dr. Hale to examine one of the current Iconaics, confirming poor quality. Need some money to pay him for any work he does.

Contact: Maverick Hunters? Don't know how, but be prepared in case they get brought in as a knee-jerk reaction. May not be able to talk beforehand, just be ready.

Contact: Kisa. If Delta goes as I hope, they will need quality base minerals to produce better awareness just like I did. With a hundred reploids here and the need for better quality than the company would provide, she may be able to work something out. Will need a good amount of money to do this, I imagine.

Contact: Beatrice. We do need money to pull this off even before they are aware of things to start their planning. If there's an art auction, I could sell off some pieces to do this through her without having to wait for a gallery sale. Maybe even the X portrait? I could work on paintings for Zero and Axl too, that might get extra attention..

Contact: Abe, maybe Naomi. I want the Iconaics to lead the strike, but Kay said to me on a few occasions that I was older and she had a question. With me being their supervisor, the other Iconaics will probably do the same. Will need to be ready for that.

Contact: Susan because she has contacts with people who could help out better. The bosses may try to downplay this and keep it quiet, plus it'll be in the factory and people won't notice. We need some media contact to make sure the story gets attention from the public, about what is going wrong and what things could be like.

* * *

Of the tasks Polaris had set himself, there were only two he could work towards at the moment: raising the money needed to get things going and speaking to Kisa to make sure the change needed would work. He decided to go ahead with making paintings for Zero and Axl as well, hoping that their popularity would get the works sold for a better price. That would take a while to get them of good quality just like the X portrait, but he usually had plenty of time at work even when he went into the factory to talk with the other reploids more. On checking with the artist group of Evergrande, he found that there was going to be a big art auction at the end of November. That was cutting things short, but he could do this.

Getting in contact with Kisa wasn't easy because he wasn't sure where to find her, other than at the Pajari house which didn't seem like a good place to discuss things. He made sure to spend time in the living room area in order to catch her when she came back to the apartment. It ended up that he was playing a card game with Kyoto, Hogan, and Tom when she did.

“Hey Kisa, I'd like to talk with you sometime, later,” he said.

“This evening?” she asked, pausing nearby. “That would be best.”

“Yeah, that works for me too,” he said.

She nodded, then looked over the table they were around. “What are you doing?”

“We're teaching Tom a few games,” Kyoto said. “Nothing bad, just some variety.”

“They weren't going to teach me poker, but War was pretty nice,” Tom said.

“As long as it's the cards of war,” Hogan said, smiling.

“You can bet on just about anything with the right thinking,” Kisa said. “We'll speak this evening.”

An hour after dinner, Kisa brought him to a fancy tea house. The hostess immediately recognized her and got them into a private booth where they could close a screen to keep from being overheard. A planter full of white flowers and vines also helped with that. Once they had the tray for the tea and some snacks, she said it was safe to talk.

“Well I'm working in the Iconaic factory now, because I was curious about where Kay worked,” he started with.

“The factory floor supervisor?” Kisa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, how'd you know?” Polaris asked.

“Mr. Pajari owns controlling shares in the company,” she explained.

That could work against him. But there wasn't anyone else who might be able to help. “I was told that I didn't need to deal with the working reploids directly. But I figured it was mostly because they didn't want humans on the factory floor. I've been talking to the reploids there and I'd like to help them out. If I could get their mineral storage up to a better quality, I think it might give them a better situation.”

“What are you suggesting?” Kisa said. When he hesitated, she said, “Are you using some form of the Maverick virus?”

“What would make you think that?” he asked, trying to figure out how to approach this now. And he had to keep collected here.

However, she had a good position to unnerve him. “You're the Maverick prince. There aren't many who are built in the form of Zero and you are from the right place and time to have been the copy that Sigma built in the second war. Since you are a copy of Zero, it is possible that you can bear the mastery of the virus as well. This cannot be refuted once it is thought upon.”

“Well you have that right,” he said.

“But what use would it be to turn those reploids Maverick? They are not capable of fighting well and the factory has no capacity to produce weaponry.” She looked at him carefully. “It does not seem within your past actions to be doing this.”

The questions she was asking made him feel like he could be honest. This was a risk already. “I'm not using the same version of the virus. I don't want things to be handled violently, I just want to give them the capacity to realize their situation and do something about it. Thus the version I’ve been working on gives them a better mental capacity to have free will. But they need to build their minds up physically too to handle it.”

“So you need the minerals,” she said. She closed her eyes and sipped at her tea for a moment. “I'm thinking.”

“All right,” he said. While she did, he wondered if he'd just gotten himself in trouble. But she could have done something about it already.

After a few minutes, Kisa nodded to herself. “Iconaic is a company that we simply own. It's not one of those that Mr. Pajari truly cares about. On the other hand, bringing the factory reploids up to a state of full sentience… you are sure this version is not violent?”

Able to bring up the design in his mind, Polaris nodded. “It does not force a violent or aggressive mindset.”

“It will be interesting to see what comes of this,” she said. “But it would be bothersome to do this and find that the virus does not work as you like.”

“I'm sure it would because I know it.”

“What I mean is, I want to try this virus of yours,” Kisa said. “If it functions as planned, it will assist me as well. If it does not, I have means to be repaired and restored. Do this and I will get the minerals for the Iconaic reploids. I'll even try to avoid mentioning it until it fully works.”

Kisa was in a position of great prestige and luxury, but she was still handicapped too. Not as much as the factory reploids, but he could remember how she had had difficulty simply deciding on what to wear. “All right. I'm not sure how long the transition is, probably a couple of weeks. But you'll probably need the mineral boost as well.”

“That's not an issue. Getting the monetary resource will be some trouble.”

“I've thought of it,” Polaris said. “There's an art auction at the end of the month and I'll be selling some of my paintings then. I don't know how much it will all be, but I hope that works out.”

“Possibly. So what do you do?”

“I don't think you need to do much.” He'd not seen how to do this, but the method was in the design. Examine her programming designs… there was some similarity to the Iconaic reploids but more complex. As she had an antivirus program, he needed to keep an eye on it and work to not alert it. Copy the specific program and add it to hers. It latched on to to her and quickly worked to match her design. He could help blend it better. “That should do it.”

“I didn't notice anything,” Kisa said. “We'll see what this does.”

* * *

Midway through the month, he had Axl's painting done. He took it and X's painting over to Beatrice's gallery to talk to her about the auction. She thought it would work well, but had another idea. If he gave an interview about his art, it could increase interest in his paintings by confirming that he was the artist.

It was from an online art magazine that had the interview posted in a few hours. He got to see it while he was attending one of Susan's band battles. Since he was trying to get attention for his works in the auction, he had talked mostly about them, especially the X portrait. But the interviewer had wanted to discuss his changing styles and mediums. That was easy enough to explain that he'd been experimenting with what he wanted. He continued using various styles and paints because different pictures needed the different parts.

“Hey Polaris,” someone said near him. It was a young man with a shaved head who seemed almost familiar. Especially the voice.

“Hello, is that you Sharid?” he guessed.

Fortunately, he was right. Sharid grinned. “Yeah, it's me, just minus some hair. Mind if I join you here?”

“No, go on ahead,” he said with a smile. “Trying a new style?”

Sharid sat down in the booth he was in. “Kind of. The doctors said I’d probably start losing hair about this time, so I decided to just shave it off beforehand.”

“That's a good plan,” Polaris said. “How are you doing otherwise?”

He shrugged. “Well I was fine after I got over the initial sickness, for a little while. But now I’ve been getting real tired easily and can't do a lot. But that's normal too. I'll just be sitting here watching the concert instead of being over dancing with the friends I came with.”

“Well you're alive, that's great,” he said.

“Yeah I’ll get past this. How've you been doing? Have those people been trying to get in contact with you again?”

“Not yet,” Polaris said. “I've been doing fine. Working at a factory now, but it's kind of a lazy data entry job. But I get a lot of work on my art done, so that's good. Even got interviewed on it.”

“Oh really, where?” Sharid asked. Polaris offered the laptop he'd been using to replay it for him. “Huh. I don't know much about art, but that picture of X was part badass and part intimidating.”

“It was something only I could do,” he said.

* * *

Polaris decided to go to the art auction, mostly to see what else was being sold and how things would go. It had no obvious dress code, but the wealthy auction house silently asked for dressing well. Although even when he wore his best clothes, he was understated compared to the rest. All well, he was here as an artist, not a buyer.

Mr. Pajari was here with Kisa, both of them looking like royalty in white and gold. While the man was busy talking to some others, Kisa spotted him in a display room. She glanced up at her owner, then waved him closer. “Your pieces here are quite impressive,” she said, taking a small envelope out of her vest and passing it over. Then she put a finger to her lips.

Nodding, he slipped the envelope into the bag where he kept his sketchbook.. “Thank you. I did a lot of work on them.”

Mr. Pajari noticed him then and began talking to him about the auction. Through the evening, other people wanted to talk with him too, including some that were trying to buy his works. It wasn't until the auction actually began that he got a chance to look at Kisa's letter.

'Things have been going well. It took sixteen days to fully adjust, but some clarity has come that makes it easier to think. Although, that itself causes some trouble. It's mostly a matter of seeing things for what they are. Like it is a known that a + b = c, where a makes sense and so does c, but b does not seem right and is right at the same time. Then things clear up and you know what's wrong with b, which makes c completely wrong.

'It's something I can handle myself. I already have plans to handle the situation. As for your request, matters have been arranged. The order form is copied on the back of this note along with a diagram of how to hook it up to their pods in the habitation area. I've taken care of the paperwork in a way that should pass with little notice. With the attitudes of other executives, they should not examine it close enough to realize what's going on. I'll come to the apartment some evening this week to handle the payment.'

The auction went well for him, as all the pieces he offered had sold. A lot of competition had gone into the three recent paintings too; the auctioneer even noted that the X portrait was one of the more anticipated pieces. Even after the fees came out of the payment, it was still enough that he could have lived comfortably for a few years. But who knew how successful further sales would go as more of his works came into the market?

But much of this was going into helping the Iconaic factory reploids. He met up with Kisa the next day. She was still very serious and stoic, but she did smile at him briefly when they met. And she had a surprise for him. “This is at-cost pricing, that's what you need to pay.”

“Really? Thanks, that helps a lot.” Mostly because that didn't take up everything, leaving him a good portion to pay Daniel and Hale when he got around to involving them.

“I look forward to what will come of this, so some loss on my part is negligible,” Kisa said. “But they will have a rougher transition than I because they have so much further to go.”

“Yes, but I'll be there for them,” Polaris said. “I've got some plans on how to get some ideas to them without just telling them what would work. It'd look better if they could explain how they came up with things.”

She nodded. “Lay the foundation for them.”

“Then how are you doing? You mentioned some plan...”

She quickly cut him off. “I have the resources and means to handle my own situation. But thank you for removing the chain I had. I'm working to get my grade increases recognized without the family noticing. As long as they don't notice my changes, which they have yet to do, I should have no troubles.” Her eyes shifted around, nervous. “Although, I may contact you at further points. I won't betray you for I wouldn't have this chance without you, but there are some points that are still troubling.”

“That's fine, I’ll listen to you if you need to talk.”

“I am sure now, but some things...” then she shrugged. “It may come up later. We will see.”

* * *

December 2184

It was a cool start to the month, sunny with some fog. Polaris got his work done, then continued reading a book that Abe had recommended to him. Written by a teacher with many decades of experience, it was some good insight into how he might handle things here. It mentioned a tactic of pulling the strings gently: giving the students a puzzle, having set up the pieces to be found if they did some thinking. If the right resources were there, they could make their own reasoning to the solution.

Midway through the afternoon, someone pressed the buzzer by the front door. He put a bookmark in place and went to meet with a delivery reploid. “I was told to get a signature for this delivery,” he said.

The order number was the one Kisa had given him. “All right, got it.” He signed off for it and that was it. Good, that person shouldn't recall anything particular if it went as an ordinary exchange.

On the other hand, this wasn't normal for the factory reploids. Polaris had gone right into the factory after the delivery person was gone, but Kay's successor KY-8497-435 was already there trying to figure it out. “These are nothing ordered,” she said.

“They were, it's something I did,” Polaris said. “I managed to get better quality mineral resources for you all. As such, these need to go up to the habitation level so they can be tapped into during your sleep periods.”

“Then I will get a forklift,” she said, starting off on the task.

“Let me come up, I know how these attach,” he said.

Once she got two in place and the others stored for later, Polaris got Kisa's note back out to check over the diagrams. The system here did have the option for three mineral crates, but only one was in use. The one was set to a lower quality dosage, as he noted when he looked into its programming. By that, he saw that it was for minor body repairs. He set the system up to draw from the two high quality stores for mental growth.

And then, it was time to set up his virus. The factory reploids were required to take a sleep period every day and they followed rules. Thus, the sleeping pods were a good option for a carrier device. Plus when Delta was upgrading their capacity, they should be active carriers as well. Once it was done, the virus was instructed to supplement the modern antiviral programs. That should make it a permanent piece of the new reploids.

The antivirus in the pods came alert soon after he connected to it, so he had to keep his touch light and blend in. Due to it being a machine rather than a reploid, it was more obvious that he wasn't part of the system. Once he felt it calm down, he copied the carrier design so that it would replicate into unaffected reploids until a certain amount of time passed without a new infection. Then it should make itself inert, dissolve out of the system. Hopefully, that kept it from being discovered later on.

After some careful work to blend it and get the antivirus' acceptance, he felt the carrier split off new viruses to plant into the ones who were resting now. “I hope this all works out,” he said.

* * *

In the middle of December, Polaris met up with Kyoto one day after work to go by the supermarket and pick up groceries. While they were shopping, Polaris noticed that Delta was already in Kyoto. He must have picked it up from Kisa in her few times being home. And Kyoto was a social guy, so he might have passed it along to his coworkers and friends. How far had it gotten?

“How's Lucia doing?” Polaris asked.

“Fine, nothing bad happening,” Kyoto said. “Our dates haven't been much but talking, so we were wondering if it was worthwhile keeping up. Doing all this, we both really feel that we can only be friends. But still...” he rubbed at his neck.

Delta could change that. It just needed time. “But you're both getting along and having fun, right?” he asked. “For what you're capable of, that's doing good. Keep at it and maybe you'll be closer than just friends.”

He paused where he'd been looking over some canned vegetables. “You really think that would work? We've been together for months.”

Polaris nodded. “A lot of those relationships can take years to develop and grow deep. Actually, so can some friendships. We live together so that helps us, but given that you both work different jobs and live in different places, it'll take more time.”

“Then, it's more of an experience matter than just working?” he asked. “I'm not used to things like that.”

But if he thought on it, Polaris felt Kyoto could come to accept it. “Right, but you're young. There are some things you just can't know without experience, even for reploids. Even with dating; you have only dated one girl. There's things about getting along with others that I’m not even sure about.”

“I suppose things like that are too complex,” Kyoto said. “We could try a while longer. Hey, what if you and someone else came along on a date with us?”

“I don't know how much that would help,” Polaris said, half amused and half embarrassed. “I don't have a date.”

He smiled. “Well we can find you one. You get along with Kisa.”

And that was worrisome. “Not like that. Besides, we don't know when she'll ever be in.”

They joked for a while about it, but when they got out to the bus stop, there were a pair of women there that he knew a little. It was the two Maverick Hunters Mimosa and Joules. As he was still trying to be on their good side, he greeted them and they recognized him. Then Kyoto had to ask, “Hey, how about you go on a group date with us?”

“Kyoto, that's not how that works,” Polaris said, shaking his head. “We should be looking for someone we know better.”

Meanwhile, Mimosa stared at both of them while Joules tried to hide her grin but ended up laughing at Polaris' statement. “Well why not?” she said cheerily. “I guess it's safer to go with those you know. But this could be fun and we didn't have any evening plans.”

“Joules, this is irrelevant,” Mimosa said harshly.

“I guess it couldn't hurt if they want to, um, do you mind?” Polaris asked, rubbing his neck. It would be a different thing to do.

“We shouldn't,” Mimosa said.

But Joules shook her head and clasped her friend's shoulder. “Ain't no such rule. Come on, you really could stand to relax your guard. We're just going to hang with some regular guys.”

“That's not how I am, you should know that,” she said. “But I guess it would be an experience. We did have dinner plans.”

“Well so do we, so we can meet up somewhere this evening,” Polaris said, surprised this was happening but looking forward to it all the same. Kyoto sent a text message to Lucia; thankfully, she thought it was an interesting idea and had the time.

And since there were three girls, Kyoto grabbed Hogan when the guard came in from work. “Hey man, wanna come hang out tonight?”

“Uh, maybe, what's going on?” he asked, brushing through his blond hair.

“Me and Polaris are going to a group date, but we've got three girls to the two of us guys, so we could use another guy.”

“A date huh?” He grinned. “Sure thing, sounds like fun.”

As it happened, Kisa was there, sitting on the couch and reading a book. She raised an eyebrow at that, putting her book down. “Well you seem eager to go on a date with them.”

She'd said that? Polaris ended up snorting. Kyoto looked confused while Hogan raised his hands up in embarrassment. “H-hey, what's that supposed to mean?”

She brought her book back up, acting disinterested. “You didn't even ask who the girls are.”

“Well they've already got some girls coming, so what's it matter?” Hogan said. “But, who've we got coming with us?”

“Lucia for one, my girlfriend,” Kyoto said. “Then we got, um, it was Mimosa and Joules, right, those were their names?”

Polaris nodded. “Yes, that's them.”

“Those two?” Hogan asked, now surprised. “Huh. Can't imagine that… I mean, Joules seemed friendly enough, but Mimosa's got no sense of humor or romance to her.”

“You know them?” Polaris asked, glancing over from his work in the kitchen.

“Sure, have to talk with them on the job sometimes,” he said. “I am a security guard, after all. How'd you get to know them?”

“I've run into them on a few occasions, usually when I take Whisker out to the park,” he explained. “Joules really likes her. I think Mimosa does too, but she tries not to show it.”

“Heh, maybe she does have her soft side,” Hogan said, amused at the thought. “This should be an interesting evening.”

“I'm sure it will,” Polaris said, then asked what he thought of their plan on where to take the girls.


	22. Unexpected Shifts

December 2184

As they were meeting up for their group date after dinner with not much time to plan, the guys decided on going to a museum on Asian history and archeology, then to a night market to get some snacks afterwards. The museum had a large display of pieces that had been dug up around and even under Evergrande City. Their group had varying interests, so no one thing ended up catching all of their attentions. Polaris and Lucia liked most of the art and pottery, while Kyoto really liked the tools and the display of how buildings had been constructed in various eras. On the other hand, Hogan, Mimosa, and Joules were most interested in the weapon displays.

“I lived for years in a junkyard where the poor and troublesome came,” Polaris explained when he was asked why the weapons weren't as interesting. “I've seen too much of fighting, I'd rather just live a peaceful life from now on.”

“Suppose we couldn't blame you for feeling that way,” Joules said.

“These pieces have their own stories, most likely,” Mimosa said, looking over a group of axes. “We just can't know them.”

Lucia shrugged, looking more at a decorated shield and leather armor that was nearby. “I guess, but it'd be violent with people getting hurt. I don't like that idea.”

“I've thought of shifting over to an axe weapon,” Mimosa said, ignoring the comment. “Or going back to a scythe.”

“Aw, your morning star staff is so cool,” Joules said. “But let's leave off that talk, especially if it disturbs our companions.”

While they walked through the museum, Polaris noticed that Lucia had already been infected with Delta as well. He wasn't sure of how far they were developed, but the designs of their programming were looking complex. What exactly did it mean? He couldn't find out without focusing his efforts, and that might get one of them to notice he was up to something.

He also noticed when Lucia and Kyoto's virus' attempted to infect the other three. The two other girls had their programming resist for a little while, but eventually it got accepted. On the other hand, Hogan had an alien appearance to his native programming. The security reploid's programing was morphic and different enough that Delta was having a hard time getting a foothold in him. What was up with him?

There was something else he noticed, but it was something he didn't have to hide his interest in. Although it was a group date, his friends Kyoto and Lucia were especially animated when talking to each other. They held hands through most of the museum and talked with each other more than the rest. “So they really could do little machines like this a thousand years ago?” Lucia asked, pressing a button.

This caused a modern replica of a clockwork bird to start shifting on its perch and singing. Next to it was an incomplete original, unable to run but cleaned up so that the exposed inner workings could be seen. “This kind of thing doesn't actually take electricity,” Kyoto said, busily examining the original. “Yeah, see? This one was wound up; they probably just made that one electric to make it easier to show working without people touching it.”

“I love that they did it because then you can see its real beauty,” Lucia said, smiling at the bird.

“It would've been quite an accomplishment,” Polaris said, interested in how it was designed. “Do you find stuff like what's in here out on the job?”

“Bits and pieces, nothing big like here,” Kyoto said. “We do have to scan every piece of new ground we break in case of artifacts, no matter how old or new. Although one time, I found a banged up toy car under the ash layer that's everywhere since the crash.”

“So it might've belonged to a kid back then?” Lucia said, looking over at him. “That's a sad thing.”

“Never really thought of it, but yeah,” Kyoto said. Then he smiled and winked at her. “Hey, but if I find some old piece of jewelry out there, I'll get it cleaned up and give it to you.”

She giggled at that. And this time, it was hard to see as an act even though he knew this pair had a lot of experience faking such emotions. He'd not heard about Kyoto needing extra minerals, but maybe he didn't see it as interesting enough to talk about. When they left the museum for the night market, it wasn't long before Lucia spotted something of interest to her and the two of them were gone into the crowds to check into that stall.

“You'd think those two hardly noticed the rest of us on this date,” Hogan said.

Polaris smiled. “That's good, what I hoped might happen.”

“What, that they'd ditch the rest of us?” Mimosa asked.

“Yeah. He was worried that they weren't working out as a couple, so I was talking to him and somehow this happened as a result. Sorry if you feel cheated or something.”

“Nah, that's pretty cool that you'd do that for your friends,” Joules said with a smile.

Hogan nodded. “Yeah, and it's been fun so far anyhow.”

“I thought the whole idea was silly,” Mimosa said. “Although I suppose some altruism is worth the extra effort.”

The four of them got some snacks at nearby stands and chatted for a while. But once they were done, they split up for home.

* * *

 

Kyoto had not come home the night of their group date, although Polaris didn't think about it until his neighbor showed up the next morning. He looked bothered, with his hair messed up and still with his clothes from yesterday. “Are you okay?” Polaris asked.

“I don't know,” Kyoto said, shaking his head. “Man things seemed to be going well, but it was so weird. This shouldn't be happening to us.”

“What happened? And come over here and sit down.”

“Don't you have to be at work? I should, but,” he grimaced.

“They don't care when I come in,” Polaris said. “I could even take today off if I need to. And you can tell your boss that something came up; he seems reasonable.”

“I should probably call ahead then.” Kyoto took a couple of minutes to do that, fortunately getting a respite for the day. He sat down on the couch with him. “Well sorry for running off. We didn't mean to, it just didn't occur to us after a while.”

“That's okay, I understand,” he said. “Did you have fun?”

He smiled for a moment. “Yeah, actually. We explored all over the market, bought a few things. It was really wonderful, the most fun I’d ever had. It got to be two in the morning and we decided to go by her apartment. But we were busy talking, so I went in with her. We joked about me staying over there at first, but then we kissed and...” he went quiet.

He understood what was going on. Delta had been in him long enough to bring him past his lacking. “What about it?”

“Well we felt something this time,” he finally said. “I don't know how to say it, it was all happening and I never felt like that before. I just, wanted to stay with her not matter what else was going on. And she felt the same way. We didn't really notice anything was weird until just a couple of hours ago. She wanted to get in to work, so I had to leave. But neither of us should feel like this. Something's wrong. But it's nice so it doesn't seem like something is wrong.”

“That doesn't sound like anything wrong. Has anything changed recently?”

“I was really hungry for minerals for a little while, but nothing else out of the ordinary. A bunch of other guys at work were feeling the same. And I haven't gotten any upgrades or changes recently, not that I’m aware of.”

Polaris kept talking to him for a while. Eventually, Abe came down and tried to help out too. “Maybe this is some miracle, but you both get to live a richer life now, as life should be,” Abe said. “You can't call that a mistake.”

“I suppose that's a good way to take it,” Kyoto said, lifting his head from where he'd been slumped in the couch. “And it's what both of us wanted.”

“You just weren't expecting it to be such a major powerful feeling,” Polaris said. “It'll be okay. If you really want, you could get checked out by a mechanic just in case.”

“Yeah, I'll let her know and we'll do that."

* * *

 

Factory production was a little slow today. Polaris had been picking up patterns in the reports, so it wasn't hard to see. After getting the numbers in, he went into the factory to check on the reploids. It didn't look different at first glance. But as he approached them, the workers turned their heads to see what he was doing here. Before, they'd keep at their work until he talked to them.

“Hello KY,” he said to Kay's successor. “How's things going today?”

“Fine, I've been thinking,” she said. “The machines make interesting sounds together. The sync of them is pleasing. Is that strange?”

“No, not at all.” He glanced around the shipping area. “It is a nice series of sounds. So's the manufacturing floors below.”

“I have not been down there,” she said. “It would be interesting. But I don't have a lot of time to go hear it.” Then she looked at him again. “Oh... how are you staying safe around the machines with such long hair? We don't have hair to keep it from the machines.”

“My hair's special made to not get caught in things,” he explained.

“That's useful.”

They all had something to talk to him about, as they'd all been thinking. HN was cleaning the floor on the habitation area. “I was wondering why we have that break room,” she said. “No one uses it and I only bothered to clean it today because I had time.”

“I think it's an industry standard, but I can't be sure,” he said. “Anything in there interest you?”

“I wondered how some things work, like the big green table. It doesn't seem useable as a table.”

That was hard to explain quickly. “That's a pool table, it's for a game. But it'd take time to explain how the game is played.”

“To keep up production schedule, we don't have time to learn a game. That's a shame, it's not useful although it seems interesting to learn. There's no time. Is there anything that can be done about the production schedules?”

“It's nothing I can do,” he said. “I mean, I'd love to help, but I just keep track of how things are going. I can't alter it.”

Down on the manufacturing floor, he got to speak with three of them at once. XF, JI, and GV were all in the same area due to the layout of the line they worked on. “What are these for?” GV asked. “There is a lot of things that we make but we're not sure what they're for.”

He thought over what was on the schedule. “These are toaster ovens. They're used to cook things.”

“What's the use of cooking?” JL asked.

How were such simple things hard questions to answer? “It's a way of preparing food. Of course, you all don't eat, so I suppose it's not of use to you. But it's of use to many others in the world.”

“I suppose that makes sense, to make things for those who need them,” GV said. “I know we build those who work here, but I'm not sure if we make anything else we can use.”

“Do you make the sleeping pods? They have the company mark.”

“I don't know,” GV said. “We haven't made it.”

“I'm the oldest of us three, and on this floor,” XF said. “But we haven't made any while I've been around, while there has been one run of making new workers.”

“There's someone older than you?” GV asked.

XF nodded. “UT who runs the metal forge. She's eleven months old. Unless, are you older Polaris?”

He nodded. “I'm thirty-two years old.”

“How do you get to be many years old?” GV asked, a small change in her tone. Her expression didn't change, although she brought her hand up to her chest in surprise.

“Mostly in being careful with how I lived.”

Down at the metal forge, he found UT at work as usual. “Things seem to be going a little slower. I'm getting backed up since the call of metal is not as usual.”

“I've noticed,” Polaris said. “A lot of the others say they're thinking of a lot of things today.”

“I see. I suppose I have been thinking when I don't have to pay attention to the alloy mixing.” UT patted a portion of her forge that wasn't incredibly hot. “I know a lot of mixtures for the manufacturing process. However, I’ve noticed that most of the schedules ask for the poor quality mixes. This does not seem to make sense. If we can build a thing to be the best it can be even in materials, why do we not do so?”

“I can't be sure, it's orders from higher up,” he said. “Although, I think it's because they want to sell cheap, so they make it as cheap as possible.”

“That's strange, but our job is to make things,” UT said. “Although I wonder about it. Is there something we can do about it?”

“I'm not sure, but if you think about it, maybe we can come up with something.” UT seem to be on a good track to doing what he hoped for.

* * *

 

One day near the end of December, Polaris showed up for work and found the factory oddly quiet. He couldn't think of why. He'd spoken to the factory reploids yesterday and they were still working things out, taking things for normal. As there were no cars in the parking lot, nobody else should be in here to change production schedules or order a cleaning.

He got inside and found one of the factory reploids there. As they all looked alike, he wasn't sure which one she was outside of her work area. But he was able to check for her serial number. “Oh, what are you doing here, UT?”

“We need your help,” UT said, reaching towards him. “There's been an accident and GV-9923-119 lost an arm. The maintenance group says it is procedure to replace her now, but she says she wants to keep working and it's worrying everyone. We don't know what to do and you're the supervisor.”

“Yeah, we should see if we can fix her,”Polaris said. “Let's go, I'd like to see her.”

“She's out to keep from pain, we'll go,” she said, following back to the factory.

GV worked on the manufacturing level in the first basement, but they'd brought her up to the repair area in the habitation level as that was the only repair area they had. Some work had been done on her already, removing the crushed part of her upper arm and closing off anything that might leak out. However, the maintenance group didn't have any ideas, knowing even less about repairing than he did.

But they knew building things. “You build everyone else, so are the molds for an arm and all its parts on its own?”

“Yes, there is,” HN answered without hesitation. “But it's irregular to bring it out without the other molds.”

Still bound by company rules, but he couldn't blame them. “Well this is an emergency since she can't work without the arm. You all can build the arm according to its process, then attach it as normal, I think. We won't know until we try, so let's help her.”

“Okay, we will,” HN said. “Let the workers know.”

Since he was familiar with their positions, he was able to call up those involved once he knew which production line an arm piece would go through. The process of building new workers took up three lines, with an arm going through the second main line as a small-medium product. “This is irregular, but,” JL said.

“It must be done to help GV,” UT said before Polaris could. “That's more important.”

“Right, she is,” JL said, then headed down to get her part done.

It took twenty minutes for them to get the arm built, then attached to GV. Still, the others waited until they got her woken up. “I'm awake again?” she asked, blinking several times.

“Yes, we replaced your arm,” HN said. “Does it work? We don't know how well it worked.”

GV brought her new right arm up, bent it inward, and flexed her fingers. “It seems as it should. I'm good, that's wonderful. I didn't want to stop working yet.”

“Great, nobody else wanted it either,” HN said.

“Nobody?”

“Right,” Polaris said, gesturing out of the repair room. “Everyone's waiting to make sure you're okay before they go back to work, including me.”

“We were already behind,” GV said, getting up from the repair table. She left to see.

They weren't all able to be waiting in the next room, but they had (on their own) let JL and XF stay close as her line neighbors. “Are you working well?” JL asked, hurrying over to take her new arm.

“Yes, I'm working fine,” GV said. This got a chorus of glad replies, making her bow her head. “Thank you for caring. I was scared, but it will be good now that I can work again. We should get back so we don't fall very behind.”

Polaris stuck around the factory until all the lines were working again, then went to take care of his own job. He had to fill out an accident report. But due to their replacement policies, he reported that one of the machines had broken and they got it working again.

* * *

 

January 2185

It was a day when the executives were in, being the first week of a new business quarter. Polaris went to his office and did his work, then drew in his sketchbook to look like he was doing something. On these days, he didn't go out to the factory until the executives left. He could count on them leaving at regular times.

Late in the morning, he got a surprise when one of the executives came to his office with one of the factory reploids. UT-0384-587, her eyes were darting between him and the executive. “Is something the matter?” Polaris asked.

“This one is working incorrectly, make sure it gets replaced,” the executive said. “Also run a logic test with all the workers in case something's gone wrong with more.” And that was that, it was just him and UT there.

“I didn't think I was functioning incorrectly,” UT said, standing there and seeming disoriented. “I was just asking questions.”

Polaris pulled out the other chair that was in the office, probably for someone else to work in here at one time. “Come sit down and we'll talk. Actually, let's find that logic test and have you take it first.”

“Those aren't your orders,” she said.

“It's what I want to do,” he said.

While she took the logic test, he checked on it himself. It was a simple one, testing his math, spelling, and mechanical reasoning skills. It was simple enough that he didn't need to check on an answer sheet. Once he was done, he put in the request for the others to take the test. He didn't think it would prove anything wrong, at least in terms of Delta.

Polaris also checked over UT's test answers. “Looks just fine here. What did you go to question him about?”

“A lot of things that I had been thinking about and discussing with the others,” she said. “I made some time to do that. I asked about why we made things of low quality when we could make it higher, and why it was considered better to be replaced than repaired. Nothing was answered and I was considered bad just for questioning.”

“I don't think just questioning should be considered bad,” Polaris said. “They're the bosses, but...”

“We have to do what the executives say, but this doesn't seem right,” UT said. Her hands were trembling now.

“Yeah, I don't like this either.” He reached over and gripped her arm for a moment. “Don't worry, I don't want to see you deactivated. We'll figure something out.”

“You got GV still going,” she said, keeping trust in him.

Polaris sent a request to have one of the maintenance reploids to meet up with them in the repair area. Much of the line was set up so that the workers could cover for a neighbor's position for a short time. The logic test would be done with before long. As such, HN came up after a couple minutes. “What's needed?”

“I need you to write up a termination file on UT and start up her replacement,” he said.

“We're terminating her?” HN asked, shifting back at it. UT looked right at him.

“No we're not,” he said. “But one of the executives ordered it, so we have to have the file made and we need someone to work in her position.”

“It's lying on official work,” HN said, rubbing her head. “But, I wouldn't want it to be truth.”

“They're also the executive's orders, but those were wrong,” UT said. “This shouldn't be happening.”

“We'll do the best we can do with what has to be done,” Polaris said. “UT, keep up here until I come back. I'll take you to my apartment and we'll figure out what to do. HN, make sure the others know UT's okay, but she won't be working now.”

“Not working is not okay, what is she going to do?” HN asked.

“We'll figure something out,” Polaris said.

“That's a scary thought,” UT said, starting to fiddle with her fingers.

When he got his hours in, he went back to get UT to take home. He let her say goodbye to those she wanted to before they left. They were all worried about what she would be doing now, which Polaris wasn't sure of. But he couldn't leave her here.

While going to the subway and waiting on the train, UT kept close to him. She looked around at all the things on the way, like the road, the grass, the posters on the stairs. “Why do they have informative papers on the wall?”

“They're advertisements for the most part, for events and sales. Although some are public announcements, like this one reminding people of rules for the subway.”

“Why would they need rule reminders? Such things are innate.”

“We're only in a small section of the city,” he said. “And there are lots of systems with lots of rules going on at once. Nobody can keep track of all the rules. Here, there's a city map in the station itself.”

The map was painted on one of the white concrete walls, colors used as a code. It also showed all the subway lines in the city. UT touched the listing to find the 'you are here' symbol, then found it on the map. “Where is the factory?”

Since it wasn't far from the station, he pointed near the edge of the location symbol. “Here, most likely. And I live,” he traced over the subway lines mentally to point out a spot near one of the smaller city parks. “About here.”

“Why do you live so far away? You get more work done being right there.”

“The subway is fast enough that it's no big deal. Plus, I don't need to be working as much as you. In fact, most people don't live where they work, not even of reploids.”

“We're different, then?”

“A lot different.”

Due to when they got in, several of his neighbors were in the lobby, including Daniel thankfully. “Hello…” Kyoto said, then noticed who was with him. “Hey, is that Kay?”

“No, this is UT, one of the other Iconic reploids,” Polaris said. “She's in some trouble so I had to bring her here.”

“What happened?” Naomi said warmly, getting out of her spot on the couch and offering it to her.

“I asked some questions and they thought I should be deactivated and replaced,” UT said, looking at the couch. “Things are wrong and we're not sure what to do.”

“They would get rid of you just for asking questions?” Hogan asked, shocked.

“Well, I had just thought,” UT looked over at him.

“Sit down if you like,” Polaris said. “We can trust these folks, they're good people.”

They discussed the situation, which did lead to several of the others agreeing that things weren't right and that a work strike might be an option. “How could not working help?” UT asked. “Our purpose is to make things in the factory, we can't just stop.”

“But that's the point,” Daniel said. “The company is relying on you to make their goods even though they're not treating you well. If you stop working, it stops their whole business. It'll force them to rethink how they treat you.”

“Can I look into information on it?” UT asked. “I could decide if I know.”

“A library might have some resources,” Kyoto said.

“I could get you into the university library and help you find what you're looking for,” Daniel said. “I do have classes tomorrow, but if we go over early, there'll be time to find some documentaries and books for you to look into.”

That was arranged, so Polaris wanted to get one more thing done: call Dr. Hale to get an appointment to check over UT for similar problems to Kay.


	23. Work Ethics

January 2185

When Polaris went to work the day after UT left, he made sure to check on the factory reploids first. They were nervous today, focusing on their work and being slow to talk. When they did, they worried about what was going on. “The new UT isn't like the old one,” VC said. She was another metal forge reploid and so would be the first to notice. “I can't explain it well, she doesn't think like she did and isn't sure how to talk.”

“It's fine, she was just activated yesterday,” Polaris said. “Don't you remember when you had a hard time talking?”

“I suppose,” VC said. “But then you started talking to us. If I talk to her, will she become better?”

The new UT did already have Delta in her. “She should,” Polaris said.

“I hope it can be done with me here, and her,” VC said. “I don't want to get replaced, but if we can't explain why UT got replaced and GV would have, I'm not sure what to do other than have no accidents and keep quiet.”

“It's not really a good thing that you have to keep quiet,” Polaris said. “But UT is working on something to help out.”

After work, he went to find UT in the Everett University library. She was in a corner study room where few people would find her. A TV in the room had some video cases but wasn't currently on. Instead, UT was studying a large book out of a small stack of similar ones. The top book on the pile was a discussion on work laws and safety.

“How's your studying going?” Polaris asked.

“Oh, I didn't notice you coming in,” UT said, looking up from her book. “I've got through a few of these books and watched one of the films.”

“You've already read some of those?” he asked. “You're quick at that.”

“Am I? That's helpful.” She picked up a pencil and tapped a notebook. “We need to put together a list of complains and violations, but Daniel says that he'll help me write it if I can convince the others that we can do this.”

“That's good. Also, there's something else that could help your case; I've arranged for an independent engineer to examine you today, so we need to head out to his office soon.”

“Is it about how the previous KY was having trouble?” she asked, taking a book that was apart from the rest. “That could be good to know. Oh, I have something to ask of you. Would you take this to the factory?”

He glanced at the title. “A naming book?”

“I asked the others about why your names are different and they said it was a part of a person's individuality, more than a serial number. Earlier, I was thinking that I could have a name too. I'm working for the good of those still in the factory; I have to keep in mind that we have to be united to be successful. So I’ve decided I will be called Unity. I'd like to give a chance to the others to have their own names too.”

“That's good, I’m sure they'll be happy for it. They were worried about you today, but mostly trying to keep up with the schedule.”

“I hope we can fix that,” Unity said.

Half an hour later, they were in Dr. Hale's business office rather than the free clinic he helped run. Unity was more confident, so Polaris stayed in the lobby during the appointment. He did pay for the costs when it was over, although Hale told the staff to give her a reduced rate. “If any of the Iconaic reploids have trouble during this year, I'll take care of them just the same.”

“Thank you Dr. Hale,” Unity said.

“But completely redoing all of you is out of my capacity,” he said. “I repair others. To completely remake your bodies and transfer your minds over, that would take a much better engineer.”

“We'll find somebody,” she said. “It'll have to be later; we'll do our best to hold out until then.”

“Good luck with that, I'll be here if you need my help,” Hale said.

“What'd he find out, if you want to share?” Polaris asked as they walked to the subway station.

“Something that didn't make sense to me when it was about what we made,” Unity said, holding one of her hands up. “We were built entirely in a subpar manner, not meant to last. Somehow they see that it's cheaper to build poorly and replace instead of fix. I don't think that'll ever make sense to me; we've got to make them see in that way.”

“You can do it, I'm behind you all,” Polaris said.

* * *

After a few days of study and another day to work out the declaration of grievances, Unity came back to the factory with Polaris in order to talk to the others. He let her talk on her own at first, while he completed his day's work. There was something new this time: a request from whoever his boss was to run a check and cleaning on all the factory machinery to see what was slowing things down. Feeling that was a good opportunity to give the factory reploids a chance to stop for a short while and discuss things, he set that up to happen later today with the note that they'd gather to talk before that.

With all one hundred of the factory reploids being given the chance to pick a name for themselves, there were a lot that Polaris was still making sure he knew. Most had picked names that were close to the letters in their serial number. Thankfully, Kay's replacement had chosen the name Kayla, so he was less likely to mix them up. Unity's replacement had not chosen a name, the only one so far not to. She stayed there quietly during the meeting, listening but barely moving.

One of the biggest problems was convincing the others that they could do this. “We can't not work, our purpose is to work building things,” JL, who was calling herself Jill, said. “We must keep up the production schedule, which has been harder lately.”

“But it was keeping up that schedule that made me slip up and lose my arm,” GV, who was calling herself Hope because she hoped things would get better, said in response. “And even with all of us, none of us can get time to do anything but work. I mean, I want to keep working, that's what I do, what all of us do. But I would like some other time to try out doing other things. Not even the mold sorters have that time because they also do all the maintenance through all the building.”

“Stopping work seems unnatural even for this, but it doesn't seem quite right,” another said. “Polaris is a supervisor, but he is only in for a third of the day and not every day.”

“Well my position doesn't actually have a lot of power,” he said. Or importance, but he kept that to himself because it allowed him to be here to help. “Those that do decide things are only here once a week for even fewer hours, since they work in another location. However, you all are very important in the scheme of things. You make nearly everything that the company sells, so they rely on you a lot, too much really. To make them realize how important you are, you can stop work here and stop work all through the company.”

He was simplifying things; he knew Iconaic had huge warehouses so they had to have a good amount of inventory to sell for a while. But surely a strike here would force them to rethink policies. He did have some ideas for things to have the others do so that not working wouldn't bother them as much. When the last few holdouts weren't fully convinced, he let them in on that to reassure them that time would not be entirely wasted.

The last one to not fully agree was Unity's successor. But even that resistance fell. “I'm not sure of any of this, but if the rest of the factory thinks it's advisable, I will go with you,” she said.

“Great,” Unity said. “We can handle the cleaning today so as it seems all is well, and start the strike officially tomorrow. Here, we all need to sign this form agreeing that we will not be working until our conditions are fulfilled. Use your name and serial number so they know for sure it's all of us.”

Since he was going along with them, Polaris signed off last along with his false title as the factory floor supervisor.

* * *

There were a lot of things for Polaris and Unity to get done on the night before the strike. Earlier, Hannah (HN) had been given a camera to show what the factory was like in active production. He had advised her on a few things to make sure to spend some time on, like Hope's accident, showing the break area to explain why it was unused, the storage for replacements, and talking to UT as the newest working reploid at a few days old. Those things would make it easier for those outside the factory to understand what was going on and why it wasn't right. With that recording posted online, he told Susan who would contact some friends in news media, to bring their attention to the coming strike.

Then there was making sure they had the materials and tools for things to work on during the strike, checking on the address of the company office building and headquarters, and letting his neighbors know that he was going to be away for this time. Thankfully, Tom agreed to take care of Whisker again.

The next day, Polaris called on an automated taxi instead of taking the subway. They wanted to get in at eight and not have to deal with the subway schedules. At the factory, he paid an extra fee to make sure the taxi stayed there. It was still needed. The building was oddly quiet, without the usual smoke and heat.

Inside, the quiet was even more noticeable. The opening to the doors was loud into the still shipping floor. There was some talking there, a group of the Iconaic reploids sitting around since they weren't working. “Good morning,” Unity said, hurrying over to them. “Here, I've got the statement to be kept here. And we need another two to come along to deliver the other statements.”

“I want to go,” Hope said.

They weren't going to deny her, although picking a third was harder. They eventually took along one of the shipping floor reploids, Selene. With them, they took the taxi off to the company headquarters in another part of town. It was a nice part of town, a group of office buildings in a pretty park that included a few flower gardens with sitting areas. As the office work day was started, it was quiet outside. They went into one of the far buildings to find the company headquarters.

Since Iconaic had its management concentrated here, they held most of the floors in this place. There was a card reader at the elevator; his work card only got them one floor of the Iconaic group but that was all they needed. It brought them to what was labeled personnel and office departments. Near the elevator, there was a secretary who looked confused on seeing them come out. “Um, may I help you?”

“We need to talk to someone in charge of the factory,” Unity said. “We're from the factory.”

“I don't think you can do that without an appointment,” the secretary said, checking something on his computer.

“What now?” Unity asked, looking at him.

“Go ahead and tell him what we're doing,” Polaris said.

She nodded. “Ah. All of us at the factory is going on strike and we came here to deliver our statement of intent.”

At that, there was a moment of quiet shock in those who could hear. The secretary asked, “You're going on strike? Can you do that?”

“Yes, we've already started,” Hope said.

He picked up the phone at his desk. “In that case, I'll call someone up.” He waited a moment, then said into the phone, “Yes, a few reploids from the factory have come and they say they're on strike. No, I'm serious they're… no, they are here in this office. I'm...” he closed his eyes and sighed, then set down the phone. “Sorry, they didn't believe me.”

“We can leave our statement with you then,” Unity said, bringing it out of the bag she had. “This includes a copy of the signature paper that states we're all going along with this. We have other copies of all the papers and can make some legal copies should this one be lost. If they want to discuss this with us, we'll be in the factory keeping it closed down.”

“All right,” the secretary said, then gave them a mischievous smile. “If you make them listen, or even just worry, I’m on your side. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Unity said.

Their next stop was at the Maverick Hunter base. It was a large building downtown that looked normal enough. It was made of brick with decorative pillars and nice windows. While he could sense a few security devices like cameras and shield generators, they were well disguised. Even the front guard, whom Polaris noticed scanning them all, acted like he was just doing some computer work on a bench to enjoy the weather.

This was mostly a precaution. Secretly, Polaris wanted to know for certain if Delta would trigger their virus scanners. Kisa said it didn't, but it'd be good to have a second confirmation. Right at the entrance, he could feel another scan checking them over, between the sets of doors. It decided that they were fine. Although, the hunters might want a more in-depth scan to make sure. That was fine.

The lobby was a large open room, but the arrangement looked like getting invaded was something to plan for. Well kept plants disguised the defense cover walls and he could just sense a few gun turrets hidden among chairs. Deeper still, their anti-virus on their electronics was strong, like a bold grid over the design. No, more than a grid since he didn't think he could get in there without the system noticing.

And right there, Mimosa and Joules were in the lobby. “Oh, hi Polaris!” the latter said with a wave. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm helping these ladies out,” he said. “This is Unity, Hope, and Selene, workers at the Iconaic factory. And these would be Mimosa and Joules, a pair of the Maverick Hunters for the city. They might be able to help.”

“Oh, good,” Unity said.

“What've you got in mind?” Mimosa said sternly.

“We wished to inform you that our factory is going on strike in a peaceful manner,” she said. “Since that is so, can we get your word that you won't act if someone calls against us?”

“On strike?” Mimosa asked, now confused and looking at all of them as if it was a joke.

“If you're being peaceful, I don't think we'd get called in,” Joules said. “What are you going on strike for?”

“Unsafe work conditions, poor construction on us that goes against the law, and not giving us any rights. We work twenty hours a day every day. Our purpose is to work, but we want a chance to do something other than work. So that's why we're going to stop work until our company agrees.”

“In that case, we'll keep it in mind,” Mimosa said.

“No, we can do better than that,” Joules said with a wave towards a hall in back. “We can take you in to talk with the commander. Silver Wolf is a good guy, plus he has the authority to make an advisory to all hunters in the area to be aware of the situation.”

“You really think we should bother him with something like this?” Mimosa asked.

Joules rolled her eyes. “Of course, he'll want to know and it's best from the source. Plus I don't think he's that busy, so we'll drop in. Come on.”

It took some waiting, but they were allowed into Silver Wolf's office. Oddly enough, Axl was in there. He smiled and waved at them, but mostly kept quiet while Unity and Hope (and sometimes Selene, she was nervous in this) explained the strike. As for Silver Wolf, he listened to them attentively, his ears shifted towards them in turn. He nodded. “I believe you're doing the right thing. But first, Polaris,” he looked over at him. “What are you doing with them?

“He's our supervisor,” Unity said.

“That's right,” Polaris said. “I got hired to do data entry and post schedules, normal work. But I care about them and am joining the strike to support them in their choice.”

“All right, I was curious,” Silver Wolf said. “I'll inform our network to be aware of your intent to keep things peaceful. As long as you stay peaceful, you should have no trouble from us.”

Towards evening, they had to go out into the offices to meet out a few people who came in, including the secretary they'd spoken to in the main office. “It took a while to convince the higher ups that you were on strike. By that time, a number of us, the managers and other office personnel, had read over your statement and agreed that you were doing the right thing. It's something we'll support you in if they try to make any orders to stop this.”

Unity nodded and offered a handshake, just as Silver Wolf had done to her. “Thank you, we're glad a lot of people are wanting to help us.”

* * *

They had the IC in the break room to check on news on how others were seeing their strike. In the meantime, Polaris took some time to teach some of them how the pool table worked. “The white ball is the cue ball, the only one that you actually hit with the cue sticks. The black one is special, as it needs to be the last one sent into the pockets. As for the rest, she how they're split into solid colors and stripes? One player is to put the solids into the pockets and the other is to put the stripes into the pockets.”

“Do they need to go in numerical order?” Hannah asked.

“No, although I suppose you to do that as a challenge to yourself when you get good,” Polaris said. “Breaking the original formation usually puts a few into the pockets anyhow.”

The news talked about their strike a little, promising a more in-depth report later in the week. On the second day of the strike, they did report an interesting rumor. “An Iconaic employee who did not want to be identified has stated that some executives do not want to go along with their reploid's demands due to it being a money pit that would not pay for itself in over a decade. It could not be confirmed, but experts agree that that such a task will be expensive and time consuming. Most people want the situation to be handled fairly for the reploids.”

Down on the shipping floor, most of the reploids were working on building toys to give away to charities. It meant teaching them new skills in how to make things by hand, like sewing to make dolls or manual wood crafting. But they were enjoying it. Of course, they had to be careful with how they were made so they'd be safe for children. It was good for teaching them about how things were outside the factory.

Over the course of the strike, people would come to visit and talk with them, mostly the Iconaic reploids. But a few individuals came to speak to him specifically. Not always about the strike either. The first was someone he hadn't seen in a long time, Vilpent.

But not Vilpent as he remembered him. He was no longer a long snake, since he now had a humanoid frame. He still looked mostly reptilian, especially in the head, with black and yellow scales, yellow eyes with slitted pupils, and a large tail. Even so, his monkey assistant was still hanging around him. “I was trying to track down Scorpio after the ARC raid, so I set out to get a black market upgrade,” Vilpent explained.

“That sounds like a dangerous method,” Polaris said. Especially since Scorpio didn't care all that much what the results were for jobs that just got him money.

“Right, I had several botches that had to get fixed, but I finally got a more standard body form. I didn't manage to track down Scorpio, not yet at least. But while I was here, I heard about this effort of yours and thought I should inform you of a couple of things. The Mavericks are definitely looking for you and the Hunters are watching you.”

He knew about the Mavericks, but the Hunters too? It was worrisome, but he didn't need to act rashly. “Do you know what that's about?” he asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I still don't believe you're a violent person. After all, you're here.” Vilpent snapped his fingers. “Of course, should things change, I am ultimately loyal to keeping things peaceful.”

“I understand,” Polaris said.

His next visitor was after a testing of all the Iconaic reploids. As the company suspected something had to be wrong for all the reploids to go on break, they ran them through a lot of tests, including the personality test. The university even tested a number of other reploids, some on request of other companies and some at random. He knew they'd catch Kyoto and Lucia in the grading test, which was great for them.

Another who'd been in the grading tests was Kisa; she told him so during her visit. “I had to conceal that from Mr. Pajari, since it wouldn't be accepted. But it's needed.”

“Are you trying to become a citizen too?” he asked. That made most sense to him.

But she shook her head. “I want to make sure you don't get in trouble.”

“What are you talking about? What are you planning to do?” She seemed calm as always, but she might be faking it, being used to the act.

“As much as I would like to speak with you, it's better if I don't,” she said. “You'll understand in time. I wanted to see you first, although… sorry, I don't know what exactly I want to say.”

“It's fine, that happens.”

He was going to say something else, but she interrupted. “I should say something since this might be the last time we get to talk. Freely, or at all, it depends on how things go.”

“Then what are you doing?”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry, but it really is better if you don't know. I'm just taking care of a problem that should not have happened. Until you helped me out, I was unable to do anything about it. But if I tell you any more than that, we'll both get in trouble.” Kisa glanced over at the factory. “I can handle myself, but if you were to get in trouble over this, many others would also get into trouble.”

Whatever she was doing couldn't be good. But it didn't look like he could stop her. “I see. Well, at least make it so that we can talk again. I don't think death should be a part of any solution.”

“Good, that's part of why I trust you,” Kisa said. “I'll try to make it out for the best. Also, I suspect our neighbor Hogan is up to something. He seems to have been keeping an eye on you. In fact, he was going to move out of the apartment before you brought Unity back. I don't know what he's up to, but be careful around him.”

“Okay, I'll keep that in mind.”

His third visitor was another person he hadn't seen in a long time, but not someone he wanted to see again. The Iconaic reploids didn't recognize Scorpio, but were worried about him. Not only that, but Polaris noticed something that made him ask the scorpion to take their talk outside the factory. “You have the Maverick virus active in you again,” he said once they were out by the factory wall.

“I'm doing some studying,” Scorpio said. “And I'm keeping it under control, you know me.”

And that was why he was worried. “Right. What are you doing here?”

“I want to give you this,” he said, handing over an old hologram device. It could be held in one hand, but the design and shape showed that it was from the days of the Sigma wars. “It's from Sigma.”

“You want to?” Polaris asked, taking it and knowing that he had to neutralize the virus in here once Scorpio was gone. Because the virus might be making him.

“It's something I really want to hear,” Scorpio said, clicking his jaws. “I took it out of one of Sigma's hidden labs while looking for the information he kept to himself. But it's a message he gave to the princes, the reploids that he built. So it can only be activated by one of you, and you're the only one of them left alive. All the rest were destroyed by the Hunters.”

“ _A_ _re you telling me the truth_?” he asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yes,” he said quickly, bound by the virus he thought he had under control. But Scorpio was just amused by that, waving an arm up towards him. “Hah, so you can do that! We've really got to look into you now.”

“No, I'm staying here to help these reploids,” Polaris said. “And you're not allowed to come here.”

“Is that so?” he said, curling his tail tighter.

“I can make that an order,” he reminded him. “It's thoughtful you got this to me, but I'll probably ignore it.”

“You should at least listen,” Scorpio said, annoyed. “Find out what knowledge he left behind for you. And let me know, I'm still looking into what he didn't tell the rest of us.”

“I don't know about that,” Polaris said. “You were controlling me back then. And cheated me, especially with my art. I've decided that I'm not going to be working with you anymore.”

“Oh come on, I'm responsible for how you are.”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. Go on and leave before I make you.” He didn't want to deal with Scorpio since he couldn't trust the scorpion at all.

“Hang on, you should really think that over,” Scorpio said, sounding nervous now. He even uncoiled his tail and held it meekly. “I'm with the Mavericks for the moment, yes, but I know the virus enough to keep myself out of their grips. And I'm good at finding out things people don't want me to know.”

“You'd better tell the truth if you're going to try,” he said.

“You're still compelling me on that,” Scorpio said. “They're currently being led by Vile, or so they say. I haven't been able to get in to meet with him, so I don't know the truth of that. Still, they have something big in the works to show up soon. They were hoping to get you involved, but the fact that you killed off five of them that were sent to speak to you didn't help.”

Did he want to tell the truth of that incident? Scorpio could be telling the other Mavericks what he knew. Not all of what he knew, as usual. “I could guess that.”

“What you might not know is that the Maverick Hunters have Axl spying on you,” he said. “Except you won't have seen him as Axl. He's been living as some security scrub named Hogan who was told to see what you were up to. They know who you are.”

So that explained what Kisa had noticed. “I knew that,” he said. “ _N_ _ow go, I don'_ _t_ _want to see you again Scorpio._ ”

“I hope you don't come to regret that,” Scorpio said, then scuttled off.

Once he was out of sight, Polaris quietly said, “There might be things I'll regret, but it won't include telling you to get lost.”


	24. The Invasion of Evergrande

January 2185

When he got the hologram message, Polaris decided to wait on hearing it and head inside. For now, the strike was more important. He waited until night when the others were either resting or working on the toys. That let him go into his office and shut the door in order to keep from being overheard. In there, he could keep the computer shut off and be careful while he neutralized the virus in the projector.

When he turned it on, a small image of Sigma appeared. It flickered briefly before settling on a glowing image. “If you are seeing this message, things have gone wrong. You should try to locate me and make sure I can transfer back to a respawning location. We can't let the humans keep this world.”

“We're not in agreement already,” Polaris said.

The hologram unit wasn't made to hold a conversation. “I will instruct you about the respawning, our history, and powers. You appear to have a full possession of the Master variant of the virus, so you should know a lot of the secrets. But references remain in here for review along with some messages for you.”

“So you have a message for me?” Although he didn't think it'd be anything useful. Still, there was some part of him that was curious.

“Polaris,” the Sigma hologram said, giving him a shiver at hearing his name. It had been such a long time. “No message, you should find what others are alive and work with them, if you're willing.”

He wasn't surprised at that, although he was surprised at how much that disappointed him. It shouldn't matter since their ideals were at odds. Still, he was here because of Sigma and to be dismissed like that even in a holographic recording… well, there were plenty of other people who supported him, people he cared about more.

But he was curious about what information he'd left behind. Polaris dismissed the hologram so it didn't bother him, then got into its recordings. Looking at the locks, he found them simple enough to erase and read what was there anyhow.

* * *

It took three weeks, but the executives finally came in to the factory offices to speak to the workers. Some police officers came in with them, standing quietly at the sides to make sure things went well. Excusing himself as just someone who helped, Polaris kept to the sides as well. Unity was the one chosen as the spokesperson for the factory reploids, since she had led their efforts.

“The biggest issue with your requests is getting the money to do so,” one of them said. “Our current worth cannot cover all this.”

“We can work towards it,” Unity said. “We have looked up what it would take to make the factory machinery safe and we could manufacture most of those parts ourselves and install them if we can get molds. But redoing ourselves properly is not something we can handle without help.”

“We've made some of our own investigations into such matters.” They even had spreadsheets of costs, needed income, and time schedules. For the last, they suggested activating the last of the stored reploids to lessen the work load. Since the Delta carrier was still in the system, that should work out to where the executives couldn't order the new reploids to take over from the old. He didn't think there'd be enough in storage to pull that off well either.

He noticed as one of the police officers took his phone and left the room. He came back in a couple minutes later with some bad news. “Excuse me, I just need to inform you all that we shouldn't leave the building for the time being. Mavericks have overtaken a few locations in the city and seem to be fighting for more.”

“Anywhere near here?” one of the executives said. Unity and the other Iconaic reploids glanced at each other with small nervous motions. The executives were the same way, just easier to read.

“Not right now,” the officer said. “We'll let you now if an evacuation is decided on.”

If it came down to it, he could fight for the others. But he didn't have any battle worthy gear here. The armor and weapons he had at his apartment were old and outdated, while his work gear from the rehabilitation crew was still at their main support base. There wasn't anything to use around here. However, the Mavericks were sure to be looking for him.

It was several hours of negotiations before matters were arranged. It was going to take time to implement all the changes. In one of the breaks, an executive talked to him. “How did you get hired as supervisor as a reploid?”

“Because I have a citizen's card as a full grade A reploid,” he explained. “I didn't even think I'd get hired because the interviewer didn't seem interested at all.”

“Well we need there to be a human at the factory.”

Polaris nodded. “I understand. But I'd really like to keep helping the others here. They're young and not experienced with anything outside the factory. Actually, it would keep in spirit with the job since I've been visiting them whenever I got done with the given duties.” He wouldn't mind just visiting them on his own time, but staying on as a job would be nice. That is, if this Maverick invasion didn't mess with things.

“We'll keep that in consideration.”

Then one of the police officers came over and tapped Polaris on the shoulder. “Excuse me sir, but the Hunter Commander is out front and wants to talk to you.”

From the title, it was probably Silver Wolf, which was a relief . He'd been mentally preparing for this ever since Vilpent warned him that the Mavericks were up to something. “All right.” Then he glanced at the executive, then turned to Unity. “Hey, I might have to leave here in a moment. This could be important business.”

“Are you going to be helping the Maverick Hunters?” she asked. “That's great, good luck.”

“Thanks. And I'm really glad things have worked out for you all.”

She nodded. “Good, I'm smiling for all of us.”

Down front, Silver Wolf nodded at him and put his finger to his nose. That seemed to be a signal as he could sense himself being scanned from satellite range. Unfortunately, he couldn't get a feel for what the scan found since it was from so far off. “Hello, Commander,” Polaris said, nervous but finding a spot of calm in this. The reploids he infected wouldn't be part of the Mavericks if everything worked as he hoped.

“Hello Polaris,” he replied. “I'm sorry to pull you out of this strike at an important time, but we have to speak with you, as the prince that the Mavericks are claiming.”

The best way he could see was to go along with him, so he nodded. “Sure thing. I'll tell you up front that they're taking no orders from me currently, save one I told not to bother me again. They've tried to get me before and I denied them. And, I'm sorry they had to disrupt the city trying to find me.”

“We're getting things under control,” he said. “Mistral, get us to the interrogation room.”

Polaris could feel a communications signal for a response, then the satellites grabbing them and shifting them to another location. It was disorienting to be warped this way, to go from the fairly open industrial district to an enclosed and obviously guarded room. On one wall, there was a large smoky glass blocking out where someone else could observe. There was a table, a few chairs, some active recording equipment, and that was it. Silver Wolf  gestured him to one chair, then sat down across the table from him.

“I don't mind telling you that I want to believe that you're honest about being disconnected to them,” the commander said. “You've been active in the community as a good civilian, perhaps with more friends and positive acquaintances than you realize. But you've been involved in several unusual events, including the strike at the factory now. We also know that you are the prince, the black copy of Zero from the second Maverick War.”

Polaris touched his face. “That's true. I suppose not even trying to change my appearance can change all the circumstances that point to that.”

“Right.” He continued speaking in a neutral emotional tone, if anything stern at points as he observed him and emphasized a few points. “Your age, your given date of activation, your construction, your reaction to the common antivirus, even the qualities of your hair. Yet no matter when we scanned you, even after the incident at the Eurasia crash site, you never got identified as a Maverick. You do get identified as something else. So then, what is Delta?”

After thinking a moment, he asked back, “May I ask where you got that name first? I'll tell you, but I'm curious.”

Silver Wolf gave a nod. “The recent round of mass grade testing that came as a result of the strike has led to some very curious results. Nearly all reploids involved, including all but one of the factory reploids, got graded as straight A or near straight A individuals. Of those in the latter category, the testers noted that they lacked something physical, mostly capacity to show expression that the equipment picked up internal reactions for. Those could be corrected through physical reconstruction. As for the one factory exception, she's the sole unnamed UT-0384-587 who still tested above where expected, as if she's still in development.

“Of course, this is unprecedented. Many of those tested have also been examined thoroughly. And one thing that keeps popping up is a Delta symbol on one processing chip within them. A few tests show that the Delta chip seems to contain some kind of natural antivirus program.” He narrowed his eyes at him. “This chip appears even in the reploids of my unit here. So what is it?”

He did have Delta within him. “It's a virus that does exactly what you've noticed: increases the mental and emotional capacity of a reploid in order to bring their grades up to the level that puts them on par with humans. Or more specifically, it grants a fully free will. I didn't want more violence, but as a copy of Zero built by Sigma, I had a variation of the Maverick virus with me and the capacity to change it. It just took me a long time in order to let myself do so.

“And since I don't want violence, I kept it to myself until I figured out how to neutralize the destabilizing portion that wanted vengeance for the ruin of the virus' original creator. The Delta virus won't make anyone with it violent. But, because it allows the individual more choice and freedom, they might choose violence themselves. I wasn't going to restrict that since the thing I really didn't want was for reploids to be controlled by others through forces they could not do anything about.”

Silver Wolf tapped the table. “I see. That explains a few things. One of your neighbors is Kisa Pajari, correct? Do you know what's going on with her?”

“Not really, she keeps to herself most of the time,” he said. “I did a portrait of her once for her owner.”

“I could tell you a little of the case. She's killed her owner. However, it's unlike any case we've had to handle before, especially since she gave herself up and was very distressed over the situation. We had to call in a human investigation team on... well let's just say that Mr. Pajari has long been disallowed to be anywhere near children like she was built as and leave it at that.”

“Really?” That made some sense of her talk about equations before. And also why she didn't want to explain things to him.

“We've not had cases where the reploid who committed the crime needs to be treated as a victim,” Silver Wolf said, a small shift of his ears and eyes showing that it bothered him. “Aside from Kisa, there are a few others with the Delta chip who've been causing problems. I've had to give one of my own several disciplinary reprimands. Still, that is only a small fraction of those who have turned up with Delta. Most seem to be just ordinary people, a little confused but not a problem.”

“I just wanted to improve things, not cause problems,” he said.

“Hmph. Now then, about the current Maverick problem. What contact do you have with the Mavericks?”

“Not much, but they've found me on occasion. The five who had abducted my friend at the Eurasia site were looking for me then; I was still scared of being discovered by them or you then, which was why I didn't say much. They had found me once before, back when I still lived in ARC. But something reacted that time at the power plant that I can't fully explain even now; the older version of the virus was trying to overtake me then, I know that much. While I resisted, they completely lost their sanity and attacked even me. I'm really hoping that can't happen with Delta; the antivirus you notice is something I adapted, to let the Delta fragment that stays with the chip notice viruses with the Maverick structure and eliminate them before they can overtake the host. The fragment itself should be harmless, just another part of the reploid's new structure.”

“That will take time and observation to confirm,” Silver Wolf said. “Although we are sure to get evidence of this soon. Anyone else within the Mavericks?”

“I've seen Scorpio around the city recently,” he admitted. “He's the one I told to keep away from me, but he might still be around. And there were a couple of friends of mine, Alyssa and Tully. They'd confronted me at one point, but that should be in your records.”

He nodded. “Both of them have been confirmed to be eliminated as severely degraded. They'd been among the first Maverick reploids in a long time to be caught within city limits. And then this happens. What about Vile, do you know him?”

“I met him once long ago, before I was a year old,” he closed his eyes to recall that incident. “Just before. He was pretty much disgusted by the fact that my fear severely limited my fighting capacities. But I'd faced X and Zero in two battles when I was just a day old, lost both battles. I didn't have the background or training Vile or even Sigma had to deal with that kind of thing, so I was ruled by fear for a very long time.”

“But the Mavericks are looking for you. Even Vile has said so. The thing is, we've not been able to confirm that it is Vile. He's not shown himself. Would it be possible for you to go to the Mavericks to meet him, to confirm or disprove his presence?”

“Sure, but you're going to trust me with that?”

“Think of it as a test to see if I can,” Silver Wolf said. “As I said, we have things mostly under control. Once we figure out Vile, we can adapt as needed. You should know that all three ace hunters are out there joining us today. There is very little chance that these Mavericks can get the upper hand here.”

This was going to make it hard for him to avoid them. “All right, I'll see what I can do. Look, neither he nor Sigma liked me, so probably all I can do is find his location and confirm if it is him. You can even take this, I don't want it.” He put the holographic device on the table. “Sigma left it to his heirs and it's supposed to be locked to us, but I completely undid them and took out the virus. You might make better use of it than me.”

Silver Wolf looked at it, but didn't touch it. He probably wouldn't until it got carefully scanned. “Perhaps. If it is authentic, it could be of help.”

In order to get him into the situation, Silver Wolf had him teleported to a subway station near one of the areas the Mavericks were holding onto. The rail system was shut down here, not even afflicted by the virus. The street was quiet too, closed off with the buildings blockaded. While he could see some damage in the street and a broken light post, it didn't look as bad as photos of the old wars.

He heard some shooting after a few moments, so he went towards it carefully. He didn't want to get in the middle of the fighting, but he was hoping some Maverick was nearby but not involved. Over a block, he found the telltale signs of the virus, the violent sketches in normal scenes. It was in a radio station. He was able to get inside without issue.

In the station itself, a pair of reploids were standing guard, one humanoid and one canine, both clearly built for war. “Hold on, on what authority are you here?”

“ _On my own,_ ” Polaris replied, ignoring the bodies that were present. This didn't feel like himself, but if they wanted their prince, they'd get a prince.

“Whoa, sorry my prince,” the canine reploid said, his ears shifting in shame. The other stepped back. “We didn't expect you to show up without armor or anything.”

Ignoring the comment, he said, “I need to speak to Vile. Where is he?”

“He's in the studio now making an announcement to the city, said not to allow anyone to disturb him. But he also wanted to see you as soon as we found you.”

“Then I'll just go on in,” Polaris said, heading towards the virus signal in another room. The other two didn't try to stop him.

In the DJ booth, there was just one reploid standing in there, having kicked the chairs aside due to his large battle armor that didn't work well in small room. He looked right, although entirely overtaken by the Maverick virus. But through that, something didn't seem right. Polaris couldn't pin down what, but the designs didn't match up with how he remembered him. Although, it had been just that once they met and fought. Around them, the radio equipment was active. This had to have started recently, or Silver Wolf would have known where Vile was.

“...you will never be rid of us as our mission is not complete,” Vile said. “Humans are still trying to keep reploids as slave labor and unquestioning followers, still unworthy of the Earth. We will stop at nothing to end this pollution.”

“You aren't getting very far with that in this city,” Polaris said. The microphones seemed to be picking him up, but probably not well.

“M-my prince,” Vile said, turning slightly aside. He bumped into a table nearly and jarred a can of pencils over.

That cinched it. Sighing, Polaris made sure he was in good range of the broadcasting equipment and set the can back upright. “You are not Vile.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, nervous at being caught in a lie. There was some anger in him, but not nearly enough.

“The armor doesn't mean a thing, you don't have a quarter of the presence the real Vile had,” Polaris said. “Where is he and who are you?”

“I am...”

“ _T_ _ell me the truth,”_ he ordered, putting himself in mind of how Vile had spoken to him.

The imposter got flustered and nearly shut off the broadcast. Quickly, Polaris shook his head and mouthed no at him. “Vile got killed off by the Hunters decades ago and wasn't able to be recovered, just like Sigma,” he said. “But my name is Vile. I got built by the W Group in order to reclaim the remaining Mavericks over other faction leaders like Scorpio and Axelord, and especially to get you involved with us.”

“Well you're failing hard at that,” he said. “I'm sorry, but this is my home city you've invaded and I like it just the way it is. Coming in and disrupting things violently isn't the way I do things. And it seems like it isn't your way of doing things either, since you've been hiding in the shadows rather than being out in the action like your namesake would have done.”

His programming came at a clash with his personality, with the virus speaking up because it had a stranglehold on this Vile. “I am directing things, I can do this. And we will eliminate humankind from this city, and the world.”

“Hold on,” Polaris said, holding a hand up. At the same time, he got an idea. Could he overtake this virus in someone else? It recognized him as a Master and allowed a connection to be made. “Why do you want to eliminate humans? Can you explain it in your own words rather than the rhetoric that was probably taught to you?”

“They don't deserve this world,” fake Vile said.

“And why is that?” He mentally ordered the virus to stand down and let go of the reploid's personality.

And it worked; the design retracted, leaving him on unsteady grounds mentally. “Because they don't?”

“Have you ever spoken with a human and gotten to know them?” he asked, shuffling the virus around to get it contained to one area.

The fake Vile shuddered. “N-no. They're… unworthy, I know...” some idea came to him. “They're the reason our lives are so crappy and restricted! We can't do anything outside the bounds they set us in until the virus sets us free.”

“That's false information that the virus implants in you because its original creator thought no one was worthy of the world if he could not have it,” Polaris explained. “Besides, if you've never met a human, then who made you and restricted your entire purpose to being a copy of Vile? It was other reploids afflicted by the Maverick virus, wasn't it? They and the virus are the ones who made your life what it is.”

“How can you say that?” he said. The helmet covered his face, but Polaris could feel his embarrassment and growing confusion.

“Because that's exactly the same situation I was activated in,” he said. “I was built by Sigma in order to be another puppet, to help him in the mission that the virus had manipulated him into taking. I did not get a choice and was utterly ruined because of a failure that I did not have the experience, the information, nor the capacity to avoid.” He reached over and took his shoulder. “I'd rather not see someone else go through that if I can help it.”

“I was trained,” he insisted, but his defiance didn't last long as he also admitted, “Not very good at all this, though.”

“I understand,” Polaris said, now having the virus how he wanted it. It had to be turned over to the Delta virus. Although, he'd have to hope that Silver Wolf and the other Hunters would agree to put this Vile under protection and reformation instead of ordering him eliminated. He didn't have the same capacity to escape destruction.

“But you are the prince,” he said, confusion setting in over anger. “You should want to see humans dead, why would you rather leave them alone?”

“I took control of the virus rather than letting it take control of me, although I understand that not everyone can do that. Besides that, I've met a great many humans that I like.” As he was already talking, what he wanted to say came up naturally. “They helped me figure out who I am and gladly became friends with me, although not all of them realized who I was. Some of them died due to the actions of Mavericks and I still think of them fondly now.

“Others, I've only known them for a few weeks but I still care about them. I may not affect them much and what they do may not affect me anymore. Yet in the time I knew them, I learned a little of who they were and what hopes they had for the future. I hope they manage to achieve their dreams because for the most part, they were good people who treated me fairly. I even live with some humans and they're wonderful friends. I have nothing against humanity, only a few individuals that have not been good or fair people. The same thing with many reploids, there's good and bad among us and I hope all those that I've met, even you, can be more of who you are rather than who you were forced to be.”

“But that doesn't make sense,” the fake Vile said, taking off his helmet. Underneath, he seemed like a regular humanoid reploid, nothing aggressive about him. “Some things aren't making sense now.”

He nodded. “Don't worry about it. I just told the virus within you to shut up and stop restraining you with its leash of hatred.”

“You can do that?” he asked, looking and sounding shocked.

“Of course I can,” Polaris said. “But only because you were infected; I don't like seeing anyone controlled.”

“But we're supposed to fix things…?”

“Violence breaks things, it doesn't fix them. When we're still fixing up stuff from the Eurasia crash, we don't need anyone else trying to fix the world through violence again.”

“But that's what works, at least it's what's supposed to work? Sorry, I don't know what to think now.” He put a hand on his head and looked over at the radio equipment. “What're we… even doing here?”

“Don't worry about it, we'll figure out something for you,” Polaris said. “I promise. And if you can't find the words to speak up for yourself yet, I’ll do so until you can. In fact, have you heard what's going on in this city recently?” The fake Vile shook his head, so he explained, “There was a factory here that treated its reploid work force just like machines to do work for them, not as people to care about. The reploids came to recognize that fact, and that the situation they'd accepted as normal was in fact dangerous and abnormal.”

“Did they fight back?”

“Not in the way you all do. They stopped working even though it deeply bothered them to not be working, because it bothered them more that the conditions they worked in were terrible. And really, fighting wouldn't have done them any good because they're meek and hard-working people who wanted to be treated fairly. In the end, the company's changed their views and are now working with them to address the situation to keep things running in a better work environment.

“There are still problems in the way humans treat reploids, I won't deny that. But it's things like that work strike that are needed to change and fix things properly.” Polaris nudged his arm so he'd look him in the eyes. “Now can you call off this battle or do I have to?”

“I… I think you'd better do it. Sorry.”

“It's okay. You can shut off this equipment now.” Once it wasn't broadcasting, he asked, “Do you have a separate radio band?”

“Just local broadcasts based on the virus,” the fake Vile said.

Polaris backed out so that he could work his way out of the room. “All right, I think I can do something about it if you send a signal.”

He tried, but without the virus, “It's not working.”

“I've got it,” he said, noticing what he'd tried to do. It was based on the radio waves, so it could possibly be picked up. _All units report in and surrender immediately. Do not leave._

There were some protests, some who insisted they'd keep fighting. Some might even end up killed in the confusion of this moment. But while he was figuring out the signals, the phone in the radio booth rang. The fake Vile picked it up, then handed it off to him. “It's X.”

Polaris froze up briefly, but then got a hold of himself. Of course it would be, that broadcast wouldn't have gone unnoticed even if Silver Wolf had been busy. And X would be the one who'd try to figure things out since he wasn't one to pass up a chance to avoid fighting either. “All right,” he said, taking the phone and stepping aside to get out of the way. “Yes?”

“Did you really give them orders to surrender and stop fighting?” he asked. It was the same voice… but not the same tone as when he'd faced him.

“I gave them but I can't guarantee that they'll be followed, except the guy with me,” Polaris said. “If they do stop fighting, I can change the virus in them. If they don't, then I probably can't do anything about them.”

“Roger, see if you can't get any others near you to surrender safely, but stay in the building. We'll have to transport the lot of you into a quarantine cell quarter. Sorry, standard precautions.”

“I understand,” he said. “And thanks.”

“No, thank you for doing that.”


	25. And the Meek Shall Inherit the Earth

Throughout the year 2185, the Delta virus spread throughout the world and changed the lives of reploids everywhere. It could not be deemed harmful as it did not cause violence directly. It wasn't even harming the infected reploids, usually causing nothing more than a craving for extra minerals and a period of confusion while their minds adapted to new depths.

However, it did cause violence indirectly. There was no guidance to how the reploid would grow. Some who were already living lives that called for aggression, fighting, or even violence came to adapt that in their new personalities. There was nothing holding them back from attacking those who previously restrained or controlled them. In a few cases, they finally saw themselves in an abusive position and lashed out because of it.

There were still plenty of those who argued that Delta itself was not the problem. Besides, even those who declared that it would ruin society had no ideas of how to actually stop it without destroying every single reploid out there. It was already getting around the standard antivirus and a great many reploids went to visit Evergrande City to see if they could get affected. The benefits outweighed the costs and potential risks to them.

After long debates, a guideline published by the world government in early 2186 advised that reploids affected by Delta and properly educated were to be accepted as full citizens of the world, with all the responsibilities and rights that such status implied. The world was changing and it was better to accept what would be rather than force things to stay as they had been. But the identity of the Maverick Prince who had made it all possible remained under wraps.

* * *

“What do you want to study?”

He looked over the lists he'd been given of classes they felt he was capable of handling. But, what should he choose? Asking what he wanted didn't help. He'd been built to imitate Vile. But not to be Vile, he didn't have the right training even if he might actually have the aptitude. The one who'd ordered him about didn't even respect him, didn't explain a thing. Then the prince had changed him, only he didn't know what he'd been changed into. He didn't even know how he himself had come to be.

Well, he'd been made to imitate. “Could I try psychology and drama?”

_The Vile clone took a couple of years to figure out who he even was, but being allowed to study various subjects started off his transformation into someone else. He eventually went into broadcasting, working with Sharid in the background of a news network to keep it on the air._

* * *

As a Water Demon made to work in plumbing and sewer work, Hue was very capable with pipes. But he didn't know much about concrete or other structures, not like Kyoto did. This project needed the grating to be secure and steady. And smooth, it should be possible for a human to go barefoot across this without getting hurt. He worked on getting the concrete and metal structures right while Hue did the pipes. The demon had even learned how to do some programming to make this work as he wanted.

All the extra work and care was worth it when Kyoto could bring Lucia out to the testing of Hue's fountain replacement in the park near their apartment, before the general public was invited to come see it on the official opening day. Hidden speakers played a beautiful old classic while streams and spouts whirled up from under the grating in a dance of water. While there was daylight still in the air, glowing colors could be seen within the streams.

“Wow, that's amazing,” Lucia said, stepping up to it but not quite in the water. “Can it go to any song?”

“Yeah, though we haven't tested a really wide range to see how it reacts to different genres,” Kyoto said.

“I didn't think one like him could be so creative,” she said, beaming with joy.

Emboldened by that, Kyoto took her hand and pulled her closer to the fountain. “He is. Say, you want to dance along?”

“In the water?” she said, but with a mock horror. She quickly laughed and got right in, pulling him along. It was a glorious moment.

_While Hue continued to do his work in the Evergrande waterworks, he set time aside to make his own fountains and water displays. Sometimes he got hired to install some for private owners, sometimes he was asked to make more public fountains. He found himself happy with being appreciated for his art, keeping quiet and modest._

_Kyoto and his coworkers had to convince the owner of Blacktop Constructions to keep them on as workers in spite of needing the same pay as humans. It was a long discussion, but they managed to keep their jobs even though, like many other companies, it was tough for a time to cover the extra labor expense. In contrast, Lucia and the other ECPT reploids had Able to deal with the city government on their behalf. By the time things settled down and their jobs were secure, Kyoto and Lucia decided to get married and build their own home on the outskirts of the city._

* * *

It had been a long time, to her anyhow. Unity was only three years old, so others might not see it as that long. But to her, coming back into the factory was still returning home. She smiled (glad to be able to do so) and waved at some of the shipping reploids in sight. “Hey! How's it going?”

“Ah, Unity, you're back? It's been so long, great to see you again! We're doing good. It's just about shift change, so hang on.”

“Sure thing.”

S he glanced around, able to see what changes had been made so far. There were a lot less accidents happening, she knew that already.  And she could see the differences in most of her sisters. They were happier, really enjoying their work instead of working because that's what they did. And they could look like individuals now, even go outside the factory when off work. That would have been unimaginable.

When word got around that she was in, most everyone gathered on the shipping floor, even delaying the next shift a few minutes to welcome her back. “I've missed you all, but there was so much to learn,” Unity said. “Hopefully I can finish things up and come by more often. In another semester, I should be able to start work as an intern to actually be here every day.”

“That'd be great,” Hope said. “We really want to make stuff that we can take pride in, so we could really use your voice again to complete our transformation.”

“I know, I still have pride in my factory and I want to make it worthy of our passion.”

_As she had been documented as replaced, Unity chose to pursue an education in business and management. It was a rough course as she needed to catch up on a lot of subjects, but she persisted. Once employed by Iconaic again, she continued to push for keeping things fair and trying to make better quality products instead of relying on cheap quantity. As a result, Iconaic stocks have been unsteady but some say it's a promising investment._

* * *

“Kisa?”

“That's not my name.” Anymore, at least. Kisa was a child to always be a child trapped in a golden cage. She kept a certain painting to remind herself of that. No, she was Karen, an adult woman who was responsible for herself.

“But you are her, aren't you?” The woman was one of the Pajari family. They were losing power, thus she and the others were nervous. “Do you know who inherited everything and is in charge now? They're not doing a good job of things, my brother and husband got arrested and nothing has been done to bail them out.”

“I have nothing to do with family work now.” Except that she did. She was the one who inherited Mr. Pajari's fortune and power through a different name and identity. Because she was living under house arrest and getting psychotherapy, she couldn't inherit as herself. But leaving the Pajari to themselves would ruin a great many people. Somebody had to do something to stop the amount of crime and corruption they were already connected to.

And it was her responsibility since she killed him. She'd planned to even before Delta changed her. Only, she'd not been capable of it then. She also couldn't let anyone know that it had been anything but an act of self-defense after years of abuse. Which it was that, but she wanted to completely squash his power and legacy, not just get rid of him.

Would she deserve to live after that? She didn't know.

_Dropping the name Kisa, Karen lived a double life of speaking for reploid right, especially for those who'd suffered as she had, while simultaneously running the Pajari crime family into the ground. She arranged situations where prominent and competent members got arrested by police or killed by rivals. With them gone, it collapsed, leaving just her in power. At that point, she sold off properties and investments she didn't want, in order to become a philanthropist._

_She remained haunted by her choices for a long time._

* * *

April 218 6

The air was full of the scent of flowers, white and pink petals fluttering in the spring breeze. A festival was going on nearby, full of people talking, laughing and enjoying the scenery. Humans and reploids; it was a good sign. With the cherry trees in bloom, things seemed like a beautiful dream.

But it wasn't a dream. He was here. Polaris sat on a bench and sketched the trees, the floating petals, a fallen branch with some flowers that he'd found, the people, the nearby stream… it had taken three and a half decades, but he was finally here to see the cherry trees bloom in person. Although, he'd never actually found that one picture again. Did it really matter, though? In a way, being here and knowing that he didn't have to remain bound by his past, he'd found that elusive thing he'd seen in it. He'd found peace.

Next to him, a small black cat had curled up on the bench to nap in the sun near him. People here were fond of cats, luckily. He'd had no trouble finding places to stay and go that let him bring Whisker along. Earlier, some kids had wanted to play with her and he'd sketched them rolling a small ball so she could bat it back at them. Although she hadn't agreed to them clipping a silk flower to her harness; he'd ended up setting the slightly chewed up ornament on his notebook.

Polaris was finishing up a sketch of a nearby tree when Whisker shifted an ear and looked up suddenly. He glanced over and saw him, the hero. But, he was expecting this. Had actually called him earlier saying that if he wanted to talk, they could meet up at this festival. And so X had come. Only, he wasn't even in armor this time, instead dressing to blend into the festival. He even had one of those silk flowers clipped to his sleeve; someone must be giving those away somewhere.

“Hello, Polaris right?” X asked, smiling at him.

“Right, hello X,” he said, shaking his hand when he came by. “I was just sketching here. Oh, and I hope you don't mind cats; this is my friend Whisker.”

“Cats are fine, she's a cute one,” he said, giving her a little nose rub before sitting in a bench across the small walkway there. “I’m sorry about what happened when we first met. We didn't think you were anything more than a mindless copy he was controlling.”

“It's okay, I don't think he entirely realized it either. Although, I have to admit I’m still kind of scared by you, but I’m trying not to be.”

X just shrugged at that. “Can't blame you for feeling that way. Besides, a lot of mistakes were made back then. But it seems like with what you've started, they may finally be getting corrected after all.”

“I hope so, the world deserves to be at peace,” Polaris said.

_After spending over a year helping those he'd met adjust to a new reality under Delta, Polaris decided to go on a trek accompanied by his cat Whisker. He wanted to see the world, to speak to many more people, and to draw what he saw in doing so. The world didn't need a Maverick Prince and perhaps it didn't need another artist. But it was what he wanted to do._


End file.
